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Central International Airport This choice: Jessica goes to explore London • Go Back...Chapter #5british charm by: Mariposa "If that will be all. . ." the receptionist said, rousing Jessica from her trance.
Jessica switched her gaze from the dusty clock back to the receptionist. Met with an icey stare, she smiled weakly and gathered her bags.
"Uh, yes" she squeaked. She cleared her throat, now even more uncomfortable having lost control of her own vocal cords, "Yes, that's all, thanks."
"Of course." the receptionist replied gruffly. Jessica swore the woman was almost sneering at her. She shifted her bags and stumbled out of the foyer.
So much for Mary Poppins. Weren't the British supposed to be jovial, dancing about, musical types? Struggling down the halls searching for her room, she wasn't sure if she could stomach eighteen hours of caustic foreigners. Rounding the corner she tripped over a man passed out in the hallway. She lost grip of her largest bag and it landed dead center of his stomach.
"Oh! I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" Jessica said dropping the remainder of her bags. The man hadn't flinched when the bag fell on him. She wondered if he was dead. The image of her behind bars for murder in an alien country made her stomach sink. She lowered herself to her knees and began desperately shaking the man.
"Please don't be dead. Wake up!"
Finally giving him a firm smack across his cheek the man came to. He sluggishly lifted his head trying to focus.
"What the blimey hell is wrong with you?" he spat. No, he hadn't fallen down, not unless it was into a liquor bottle. His acrid breath filled Jessica's nose. It smelled of vomit and bourbon. Great. A drunk. This was the sort of people she'd have the pleasure of sharing board with.
"Look, I'm sorry." she said grabbing her bags once more. Feeling contaminated, she coughed trying to clear her nostrils. She turned to proceed down the hall only to realized her room was right in front of her.
It just keeps getting better, she thought to herself.
Eager to be in her room and away from the hazy eyes of the drunkard, she fished for her room key. She jammed it in the lock and swung the door open. Jessica tossed her bags in the room like men in a fish market, then quickly slammed and bolted her door. The room itself was sheathed in tacky flowers and nauseating english countryside tapestry.
That's it! She would first clean the film of bourbon from her face, then she was finding the nearest pub. And hopefully she would pass out on her own bed and not next to the drunk in the hall. | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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