Omaha, Nebraska might just win the award for “world’s most boring place.” The town of five hundred thousand is said to be “the heart of America”, but to me, the town is a dead beat.
I don’t actually hate my hometown. It’s been good to me for the last eighteen years, but when my parents said they would pay for me to study abroad in the UK, I quickly jumped on their offer.
My name is Martha Skyler and I am escaping America.
It was early Tuesday morning when my alarm woke me from my slumber. Yawning, I slapped the off button and headed for the bathroom. After straightening my dirty brown hair, I slipped into my closet and pulled on my favorite pair of jean shorts. I slid a silver belt through the loops on my shorts. Tossing on a silver camisole, I topped it with a white crop top that had a giant black heart on it. I slipped on my favorite pair of flip flops, and after putting on my natural looking make up, I zipped my suitcase, grabbed my purse and carry-on, and headed downstairs.
It was seven o’clock in the morning, yet the kitchen of my parents’ house was buzzing with excitement. My two little sisters were chasing my little brother in circles around the table. On the sofa sat my two absolute best friends, Meg and Sophia, who got up to give me a hug when I walked into the room. After a wonderful waffle breakfast, my family headed to the airport in their car, while Meghan and I rode down with Sophia in hers.
Standing in Epply airport in front of the security check, I faced my fate. I gave my siblings hugs and kisses and told them to be good for my parents. My mom gave me a giant hug and kiss. After a twenty minute lecture on staying safe and making good choices, my dad pulled me aside and told me to have fun but not too much fun. But have fun. Then, they backed away so I could say goodbye to my friends. Tearing up, I realized how hard moving to London would be. I would have to completely start over. Only a few weeks prior had I broken up with my boyfriend of a year and a half. Now I was losing, well not really losing, but it felt like it, my two best friends.
“Have a great time! Call me every day!” Meghan gave me a tight hug. “Hey, maybe you’ll get lucky and sit next to a hot Brit on the plane ride there.”
I laughed, “Meg, when has luck ever been in my favor?”
She chuckled as well. “You are living your dream girl. Luck is on your side from the moment your parents said they’d let you go to London.”
I smiled thankfully for her optimism.
Sophia pulled me into a hug next, “Have a fabulous time, and bring me back a hot British guy. That’s what I want for Christmas!”
Embracing her hug, I laughed into her shoulder trying to ease the pain of leaving. “I won’t tell Jake you said that.”
She winked at me. We both knew that her boyfriend would do nothing but roll his eyes at Sophia’s obsession with accents.
I waved goodbye one last time, and before I knew it they were out of sight.
The flight to Chicago was a breeze. However, due to technical issues, my plane to New York was slightly delayed. I knew it would be a tough to make my connecting flight to London, but it was something that I couldn’t afford to miss. My plane left Chicago forty-five minutes late. We touched down in NYC at 1:45 which was the exact time my flight to London was scheduled to leave. Thankfully, the flight attendant called in that I was a student and was on my way. They let me off the plane first and promised they would get my bags to the gate which was only twelve away. I sprinted through the jet way into the main airport. As I ran to my gate, I noticed a larger group of people with cameras walking away. It took me a second to register that they were paps.
Cool, I thought to myself. You’d never see paparazzi in Omaha.
When I reached my gate, the area was completely deserted, except for the lady at the check in desk. She smiled as I approached her. “Martha Skyler?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes,” I panted, slightly out of breath from my sprinting.
“Ticket?”
I handed her my ticket, which, thanks to my parents’ going away present, stated I was in first class.
“Follow me please,” she escorted me down the jet way into first class. They closed the plane door right behind me.
I made my way down the aisle as I gawked at the first class area. There were two comfy seats per row with tons of legroom, and the seats reclined.
I found my seat only to see a boy sitting in it laughing with the boy next to him. I cleared my throat, “Um, excuse me is this 12B?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” a blonde haired boy with wicked brown eyes looked back at me. His accent was super heavy, but it wasn’t British. I didn’t know what it was. “Is this your seat? It isn’t mine. I was just talking to my friend. I’m the row in front of this one.”
“Yeah, this is my seat… I think. Sorry to interrupt,” I muttered as I smiled slightly.
“Oh no worries, babe,” he grinned a crooked smile as he slid out of the row.”Can I put this up for you?” he motioned towards my carry on suitcase.
“Oh, sure, thank you!”
Why are boys from other countries real gentlemen while American guys just suck? The voice in my head chuckled. No wonder I was leaving.
“Sorry about that,” a deep voice shattered the thought as I sat down. I had completely forgotten about the boy sitting next to me.
I turned towards him slightly and smiled politely, “Oh don’t worry about it.”
The boy had ash blonde hair and deep blue eyes. His smile lit up his face. “I’m Oscar,” he said, his accent becoming evident.
“Martha,” I grinned in return taking his hand that he had held out in front of me.
Just then the flight attendants voice informed us that it was time for us to power down all electronic devices. Quickly I took out my iPhone and sent a quick text to Sophia and Mary. It said, “First five minutes on the plane to London equals talking to one adorable guy and sitting next to another. Both have accents. Score.” Then, I powered down my phone and slipped it in my bag.
“This is you captain speaking,” a voice boomed through the plane. “We have been cleared for takeoff. Please sit back, relax, and get to know the person you are sitting next to. You’re trapped next to them for the duration of this six hour and fifty minute flight.”
Echoes of laughter vibrated the plane. Seven hours next to the Swedish guy. Maybe luck was on my side after all.
