The plane ride had, indeed, been from hell. After arriving at the airport by the skin of their teeth, Alex and Debbie had been downgraded from their first-class seats to economy class. They had also been forced to sit together, instead of in separate seats like they had planned. Add to that, there was no alcohol to help them relax. There had also been a number of screaming infants on the plane, a lot of turbulence, and as Debbie had tried to sleep, she found herself frustrated by Alex's snoring.
His snoring had never bothered her when they were together, but in close quarters on a plane in the air. It was a nightmare. The plane ride had not been as restful as either of them had hoped.
By the time they had landed in Paris and were off the plane, Debbie needed two things: a strong cup of coffee, and a good night's sleep. She was looking forward to checking into the hotel. A room separate from Alex's would be just the ticket to making this trip bearable.
Once they landed, they had an even worse time of it.
"What do you mean you can't find our bags?" Debbie demanded, smacking her hand on the check-in desk.
"Calm down, Madame," said the clerk. He was a tall man with swept-back dark hair and warm blue eyes, wearing a Paris Airlines uniform complete with kerchief around the neck. "I am very sorry, but your bags appear to have been misplaced."
Debbie's heart sank as she turned to Alex. His disbelieving expression mirrored her own.
"Surely there's some mistake!" he said desperately. "Did our bags even make it on the plane?"
The clerk turned his attention to the screen and typed something in.
"They made it on the plane," he said, and Debbie felt relieved, "but we cannot find them."
"And what does that mean?" Alex asked in a rough, sleep-deprived voice. "If our bags made it on the plane, then they made it to Paris with us!"
The clerk shrugged. "This happens sometimes," he explained. "The bags, they make it onto the plane, but we have to take a little longer finding them."
"If it makes you feel any better, yours are not the only bags missing," the clerk suggested.
Debbie and Alex turned away from the desk and sat on one of the benches, feeling dejected. As the clerk had mentioned, theirs were not the only bags to go missing. Plenty of people came to baggage claim looking for their luggage. They watched as the heavy crowd of people dwindled to just a handful, themselves included.
"We could just go to the hotel," Debbie said. "They have our information. We can just ask them to call us when they've been located."
"It's the principle of it that matters," Alex insisted.
Debbie checked her watch. "We've been waiting for over an hour. We're going to miss our check-in time at the hotel!"
"We'll be fine!" Alex snapped. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and slumped forward, a grouchy expression on his face.
Debbie huffed and sat back, scratching the back of her neck. Why were men so stubborn? If they missed their check-in time, their rooms would be given away!
About a half hour later, their luggage had been found. It turned out that their bags had been stashed in a nook on the baggage compartment and had been overlooked. Alex and Debbie heaved a huge sigh of relief, and they made their way to the cab rank.
Then came the cab ride from hell.
Their driver, an older man named Francois, was nice enough. He spoke to them in French, but they were both so tired that they couldn't respond. So, he quietened down and they relaxed in the back seat, looking forward to finally getting to the hotel.
Suddenly Alex, who had been looking out the window, sat upright, alarmed.
Debbie jerked from the edge of sleep.
"What's wrong?" she asked in a tight voice.
"Excuse me?" Alex said. "Excuse me!" he said, leaning over the front passenger seat so he could talk to the driver. "Where are we going?"
"The hotel," the driver said in a thick French accent.
"Are you taking us the shortest way?" Alex asked,
The driver paused. "Yes, I am taking you a short way."
"A short way?" Alex asked, pulling back a little. "What does that mean?"
"I am taking you a short way to the hotel," the driver said, sounding more than a little bit bothered. "Please, monsieur, return to your seat."
"This isn't the fastest way," Alex insisted. "You're taking us the long way around!"
"I am taking you to the hotel," the driver said in English. "And I am taking you the nicest way."
The nicest way? Debbie thought, confused.
She was grateful for the opportunity to see Paris. She could have never even dreamed about coming to Europe when she was younger. So being specific with the cab driver wasn't something she would normally do. But she did feel the tension of the situation and the energy coming from Alex.
"No," Alex was saying. "Please take us the fastest way!"
"This way is nicer," the driver insisted. "Please, monsieur, return to your seat. We will arrive soon!"
Giving up, Alex slumped back in his seat. Debbie turned to him, confused.
"What's wrong?" she asked in a whisper. Her eyes darted toward the driver as he took a slow right turn.
"He's taking us the long way around," Alex explained. He lolled his head to the side so he was limply staring out the window. "I checked his meter. The last time I was in Paris, I took a cab from the same airport, and it didn't cost nearly as much."
"Well," Debbie said, feeling nervous. "There are other factors that could influence the driver's meter. Rising fuel costs, inflation, or even the number of passengers?"
Alex shook his head. "No," he said. "He's trying to get more money out of us."
"Is that a problem?" Debbie asked.
Most recently, Alex's grandfather, Lincoln, had tried to bankrupt his grandson. He had done so by hacking into SCOT and draining everything Alex owned. Everything from the money in his bank account to the assets he owned across the world had been transferred into Lincoln Ambrose's name. Alex hadn't been broke for long, only a few days, and it was thanks to their new friend Mark that he was able to get everything back. Using SCOT to hack into HALLE and regain everything, Alex was now back where he had been.
He also seemed to be more conscious of how much money he had, and how quickly he could lose it. However, Debbie doubted that paying an extra few dollars on a cab ride could be that bad.
"It's not," Alex said. "It's just going to take us forever to get there."
"Oh," Debbie said.
That hadn't occurred to her. Time seemed to be against them for this entire trip. Traffic had delayed them so much in Baltimore that they had almost missed their flight. And then, they had waited for close to two hours while flight attendants searched for their luggage. Now, they were being given a tour of Paris by a cab driver who wanted a little extra cash. Debbie couldn't fault him for wanting a little extra money during troubled times. She knew what it was like better than most to struggle to pay the rent. And even though she always tried to keep in mind where she started out from, still, she was rapidly losing her patience.
More and more, she was beginning to think that this trip was the biggest mistake she had ever made.
"You were right," Alex said, prompting her out of her thoughts.
"What?" she asked, looking over at him. "I was right? About what?"
Her heart fluttered in her chest. Was Alex about to voice her thoughts and tell her that this trip might not be the best idea given their history?"
"Back at baggage claim," he said. "You said we could have just left. I was being stubborn, and just wanted something to go right." He leaned forward in his seat and buried his face in his hands. "So far, this trip has been a disaster, and it hasn't even been one day. I can't help but worry about what lies in store for the rest of it."
Debbie nodded, silently relieved. She was growing increasingly concerned that the trip was about to get a whole lot worse. She pulled out her phone and checked the time, and suddenly it felt like someone had punched her in the gut. A bitter taste filled her mouth, and she wanted to cry.
Alex didn't know what to make of this whole situation. When he glanced over at Debbie, he saw the tars glistening in her eyes, and he didn't know how to respond. He knew he should say something like "We'll be fine" or "This is going to be okay", but he didn't believe it in the slightest. How could he cheer somebody up if he couldn't even believe what he was going to tell them? He leaned back in his seat, frustrated by the driver.
He leaned forward and tried again, "Listen," he said in French. "I appreciate you giving us the scenic route, but we are very late for our hotel. Please can you just take us the fastest way?"
The driver let off a string of expletives, then came to a stoplight. He turned over his shoulder and glared at Alex.
"Monseiur," he said in heavily accented French, "I am taking you the nicest way. I can see that you have never been to Paris before, and I am doing you the favor of showing you what there is to see and do in this beautiful city!" He huffed. "Americans. You think things must be done so fast, right now, that you cannot take a moment to appreciate the world around you!"
Before Alex could respond, the stoplight turned green and the driver turned away from him, hitting the gas pedal. Alex flopped back into his seat, feeling defeated. He checked his watch, then looked out of the window.
We're going to be so late, he thought, worried. I should have listened to Debbie when we were in the airport. Why did I have to be so stubborn? We could have just waited for our bags!
But it was far too late to change anything. The best that they could do was hope that there would be a room with two bed, at least, available for them when they finally made it to the hotel.
Beside him, Debbie started to cry.