Thank You, Jesus, for Cancelled Flights

As the snow swirled outside the airport windows, two strangers found themselves stranded together, their holiday plans grounded by the relentless winter storm. Little did they know their unexpected meeting would lead to a journey that would change their lives forever.

Cold crept in from every corner around the chair where I had been sitting for several hours. When the screen flickered ‘canceled,’ I let out an expletive overheard by a lady engrossed in something on her phone.

At some point, I knew I'd have to call my agent and concoct a believable excuse for my absence. The phone call was already a knot of anxiety in my stomach. What could I possibly say? What would she tell the customer? Like all my lines, I mentally rehearsed the call several times, picturing myself saying the words and hearing my voice before I was forced to make the call. Can you imagine the weather preventing you from working in this day and age?

Well, you see, I was on my way when we had to make an unplanned stop because something was wrong with the plane. Okay, it wasn’t the plane as much as the weather where we were expected to land.

So there I was, stuck in this airport with a bunch of other folks who were just as disappointed as I was. I walked around for a while, trying to find a place to sit down and pass the time. That's when I saw her.

Before I knew it, the thought of the call had been forgotten.

She was sitting there, all by her lonesome, with a look that said she was just as ticked off about the situation as I was. I thought, "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

True, it's a cliché, but comedians use them as a foundation for their jokes, am I right?

Now, I'm not one to strike up a conversation with a stranger, but something about her caught my eye. Maybe it was the way she was glaring at the weather forecast on her phone, or perhaps it was the way she was absentmindedly tapping her foot to some invisible beat. Either way, I knew I had to go over and say something.

So, I walked up to her and said, "Hey, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" And you know what? She laughed—right there in the middle of that crowded, chaotic airport.

We laughed about our shared misfortune, and we even managed to find a few silver linings in the situation.

We talked about family and how our politics divided us at all levels. At least if we were stuck here, we wouldn't have to deal with our annoying family members for a while longer. People-watching was another highlight. The vibrant atmosphere was filled with laughter and chatter.

We sat there for a while as the snow came down harder. A few grumpy pants people were on their phones when she caught me glancing at her again.

“What?” She asked.

“I know you hear this all the time, but do you want to go to the bar and try to find some warmth?”

She stared at me for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, before closing the app on her phone, giving me that elevator look that guys usually get accused of.

“Oh, absolutely. I mean, what better way to spend a snowed-in holiday at the airport than by getting completely blackout drunk? I'm sure that'll make the whole experience so much more enjoyable.”

“Forget I asked, I just thought…”

She shook her head. “Listen, I am on the way to a holiday gig before I go home. At this rate, I am going to miss both the money and the holiday magic of people fighting over made-up shit from the media.”

“Me too, comedian?”

She glanced away from her phone again and stared at me. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“Your quick wit gave it away.”

She smiled again and then asked me who I was?”

“Victor Johnson.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t recognize you without your makeup and stuff. You’re the Laugh Master.”

I chuckled and then noticed she wasn’t wearing the warmest of clothes.

“Not much to laugh about right now. So, what about finding a little less drafty place while we wait to see if we are flying out this evening?”

She grinned, and as if on stage, she replied.” You know, I've always wondered what kind of person goes to the bar at the airport. I mean, who just casually hangs out at the airport bar, nursing a drink and watching the hurried travelers go by? It's like, "Hey, I'm just here to catch a flight, but first, let me have a few overpriced drinks and make some awkward small talk with a bunch of strangers while the airport's incessant announcements blare."

I looked at her and laughed. “Did you know that the white zone is for loading and unloading only?”

That lighthearted comment broke even more ice than the original line, easing the awkward silence. The same announcement had been repeated for three hours, each one indistinguishable from the last, its sound grating on the ears.

“ Maybe we'll get lucky and find some other people who are also stuck. Maybe we'll all bond over our shared misfortune and end up forming some kind of weird, snowed-in airport family. Or maybe we'll just get really, really drunk and end up making out with each other in the middle of the terminal. Who knows? Either way, it's definitely going to be an interesting night.“

The chilling implications of her last sentence left my mind reeling, a dizzying spiral of confusion. She was hot, well, we were both freezing, but she was very nice looking. Dare I even think this night might go further than a few laughs over drinks.

The bar itself was a marvel of modern airport design, with sleek lines and subtle lighting that created an oasis of calm amidst the storm of frustration outside. iPad ordering terminals were strategically placed throughout, allowing customers to place orders without having to fight their way to the bar.

We scanned the room, our eyes darting from table to table, searching for an open spot. The bar was packed with a diverse array of travelers - businessmen loosening their ties, families trying to keep children entertained, and solo travelers seeking connection in their shared misfortune.

Finally, we spotted a small table tucked away in a corner. It was as if the universe had decided to throw us a bone after the day's trials. We made a beeline for it, weaving through the crowd with a determination born of desperation and thirst.

“If you miss your gig, then what?” Emma asked.

I sipped my scotch, glanced at her wintery holiday concoction, Blitzen's Berries, chuckled, and thought of home. Toad Suck Arkansas. Who in their right mind spends the holidays in a place like Toad Suck?

“One of the reasons I got into comedy was because I lived in a small town that itself was a bit of a running joke.”

Emma nodded. “It couldn’t be all that bad.”

“It's so bad I put it in my act; tell me what you think.”

"Yo, you packing up for a wild family reunion at the circle of life tree? That's right, my man - it's time to catch up with a whole bunch of aunts, uncles, and cousins, all bound together by the most twisted spider web of marriages since Spider-Man's last family get-together. You feeling me? They call it a 'kissing cousin' situation, but let me tell you, these family connections make that term seem like a downright innocent childhood game."

"So, you stepping into a world of warmth and love, with a side of awkwardness - surrounded by all sorts of sibling, spousal, and in-law action. Everybody in this family has a cousin in their life they never knew they had, and now you got to deal with them too, like some weird cousin-crashers on your family time. But hey, it's all about celebrating those bloodlines, right?"

"Can you imagine it? Your mama spinning those old-school family tales like she's spinning a magic yarn about how your grandparents used to drive cars with no seatbelts or use cell phones with no screen protectors. Dude, that's some straight-outta-1994 ish, and it's gonna get you feeling all nostalgic and sentimental, like some kind of 90s throwback commercial."

"But it ain't all about reminiscing, my friend - it's also about encountering those long-lost relatives you barely even knew you had. These people might be strangers to you, but thanks to that one obscure family connection they got with your mom, you all suddenly feel like you're part of the same secret society. It's like getting a new Facebook friend, only this time it's in real life and you're related by a twisted family tree."

"And how do you go about bonding with these cousin-strangers? Why, by playing the classic family game of 'Is That My Real Cousin or Just a Random Person I'm Hanging Out With?' Trust me, it's a guaranteed laugh-fest, especially when you start trying to figure out who belongs to which crazy branch of the family lineage."

"But remember, no matter how much crazy family fun you have at the circle of life tree, just make sure to always cherish the loving embrace of your very own family circus. Because when it comes down to it, there's nothing quite like going home to your family and finding out that you're still the weird cousin nobody really knows how to categorize."

"So pack your bags, put on your best 'I'm happy to be here' smile and get ready for the most epic family reunion adventure the world has ever seen. I guarantee you'll talk about this wild ride for generations to come - or at least until the next family gathering."

Emma laughed loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons. When drinks arrived, compliments of other stranded passengers, Victor glanced at her and smiled. “When I first started out, I didn’t make enough to buy these drinks.”

They held up their drinks, smiled, and toasted the crowd. When the news came that the weather was getting worse, Victor glanced at his watch, picked up his phone, and called his agent. As he spoke, he saw Emma doing the same.

As Emma’s phone call ended, Victor set down his glass of scotch, the ice clinking softly, and decided it was time to call it a day.

“Crap!” Emma said.

“What?”

“Someone just got the last room. Looks like I am sleeping in one of these chairs.”

“I have a room, but only because my agent was on top of her game and called ahead after looking at the weather.”

She sat there with her drink in hand, shaking her head.

“What?”

“There are a million jokes about having to share a room, and now I am living in one.”

Victor grinned, laughed, and told her, “I wasn’t expecting anything; I was thinking you would want to share the room rather than sleep in this drafty terminal with a thousand or so of your closest friends.”

She glanced at her shoes, finished her drink, and peered at him. "You know, I was just thinking about how life is one big cliché—like this awkward, slightly uncomfortable conversation I'm having. I can practically hear the cheesy sitcom music playing in the background; it's so painfully predictable."

“Emma, you can have the bed. I will sleep on the couch, let’s go.”

"Wait, Victor, one more thing before we head out. Is there a little woman at home that you will have to keep this from?”

He shook his head. “No, what I do keeps me on the road way too much to have a wife. The funny thing is, my people try to fix me up every holiday, and every time they try, it seems like we are related in some way. What about you, any jealous man with a fetish for guns?”

She shook her head while grabbing her carry-on bag. “I tell men who hit on me I like girls. The hell of it is, that seems to turn them on even more.”

When Emma stepped out of the bathroom wearing a towel, Victor glanced at her.

“Don’t you like girls Victor?”

Dumbstruck, he stood there, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide with disbelief, and a cold dread creeping into his heart. “What?”

“I left the door open. I could see you in the mirror. Don’t you find me attractive?”

The scent of shampoo, soap, and an unfamiliar scent of perfume reached him before he could respond.

“Ok, maybe I am single because I am stupid. Emma, I am a man, and I don’t overthink things. I am also a gentleman and had zero intention of doing anything other than sleeping on the couch. And yes, I peeked, and yes, I find you attractive. What can I do to make my lack of social awareness up to you?”

“Well, you could have scrubbed my back or something, but since we missed that cue, how about you get naked and warm up the bed with me.”

“I didn’t expect that either.”

Emma dropped the towel, letting out a peal of laughter that echoed in the room. In contrast to past relationships, he genuinely admired her. Tonight, she was the aggressor, and she knew it.

***

The sound of the shower awoke her. Finding the door open, she waltzed into the shower with him.

“Can I intrude?”

The blizzard raged outside, a furious white chaos, making room service and getting to know each other the day's only realistic options.

Later that afternoon, Victor sat by the window, watching the snow lazily fall in stark contrast to the whiteout conditions earlier in the day. Emma came over and sat in his lap.

“Why so quiet? Tired of me already?”

His gaze shifted from the window, where the city lights blurred, to her face, noticing the details he'd missed before. Her face, bare of makeup, was exquisite; her eyes sparkled, her skin glowed.

"No, I'm not tired," he whispered sadly, "but I'm also sad to see the blizzard ending." The wind's mournful sigh mirrored his feelings.

Emma smiled, kissing him on the forehead. “You don’t want to go back to work or visit that family of yours?”

The scent of her hair filled his senses as he gently squeezed her closer, peering into her eyes.

"Emma, you won't believe it, but I always imagined saving myself for the woman I'd spend the rest of my life with."

Emma kissed him passionately, her lips pressing hard against his.

“Victor,” she purred, a sly smile playing on her lips, “I am an excellent judge of character, and you, my dear, are a very interesting case.”

He furrowed his brow, a deep crease forming between his eyes. "Was my performance really that poor?"

Mirth bubbled up from within her, and she laughed. “No, you were perfect. Listen, we can get together after the holidays and explore this further. After New Year, my schedule will open up, and we can find another airport to meet at if you'd like.”

“I would like that very much.”

When they both boarded the airplane the next day to Little Rock, Victor thought little about it. He only knew that his drive would take him up north to ten miles west of Conway to the little town of Toad Suck, Arkansas, where the stories of how the city got that name ran wild at the local tavern.

Once back in his hometown, he glanced at the old home where he played ball, broke a window while pretending to be good at golf, and then he glanced at the old barn with the hayloft where he and Mary Lou discovered what the bases were all about. After she took off with his best friend, he decided that third base should be reserved for that special person.

Inhaling the cold air sharply, he paid for the taxi and headed for the door. His footsteps crunched through the snow as he walked around many cars and trucks that he suspected all belonged to an aunt or an uncle. Opening the door, Victor plastered on a fake smile like he was happy to be home. The chatter was delightful and worrisome at the same time. He searched the faces for any new female one of his relatives might have invited as a possible girlfriend.

Victor was one of the few who left home and made something of himself. “No man should live alone,” Aunt Martha would say.

An hour before dinner, the doorbell rang. Martha smiled, glanced at Victor, and chided him to be nice.

A knot in his stomach formed once again as he wondered who his aunt had conned into trying out as a bachelorette. He sat there peeking from his drink, wondering if this girl would have all her teeth.

Her expression also took him aback as she came into the room. Nobody spoke as they both smiled. A collective gasp of shock rippled through his relatives when they both smiled, met in the middle of the room, and kissed.

The silence was deafening until the two glanced around the room at the blank stares.

Martha finally spoke. “Victor, this is my sister’s friend, Emma. Do you two know one another?”

Victor peered at Martha. “Wait, friend, not related to us, right?”

Emma pressed her nose into his. “Not related.”

“Thank You, Jesus! Merry Christmas!”