“It certainly is,” he says. “It certainly is. Come on.”
The man shakes both of our hands quickly. “I’m Leon. The cop outside let me leave the car out front, but he only gave me five minutes. Hurry.”
We get outside to the white stretch limo in record time, and even after we pull out of the airport, I’m still not processing what’s happening. Dance music is blasting, and I am officially on sensory overload. There are slick black leather seats, colored lights on the ceiling, two bottles of champagne, and...garter belts around the bottle necks.
“Leon?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“This limo? Um, was it scheduled for something else tonight?”
“A bachelorette party, ma’am. The bride-to-be transferred her rental over to you.”
“That was very generous of her,” I reply. “Please thank her!”
Esben puts his phone in front of me. “You can thank her yourself. She used the hashtag for you and Steffi and wished us safe travels.”
I reply to the bachelorette’s tweet with a selfie from the inside of the limo. What a crazy sweet thing for her to do. Next, I send a video of me lying down on the seats to Steffi.Heading to Midway in style!I write.
Holy crap!she texts back.I just read about this online. I can hardly keep up with all of the comments. Drink some of that champagne for me!
“So we have tickets to Los Angeles?” I ask.
Esben nods. “We do. A nice young couple. They just...gave up their seats. Just because they’re awesome.” He sighs with a happiness of sorts. “If you can believe it, the pilot is going to meet us at security and help get us through. He can only wait so long, though. It’s going to be tight.”
“I can’t believe this is working.” I’m still in shock.
“I know. I can’t either.”
We’re more than thirty minutes into the ride when Leon says from up front, “Sir? Ma’am? We have a problem.”
The car slows to a stop. There are red brake lights everywhere.
Before I have a chance to say anything, Esben is online. He finishes typing and looks at me. “Say a prayer.” Then he opens the moonroof and pokes his head out.
“What are you doing? Esben!” I stand, too, and take in the horrendous traffic jam. “Christ. No. No, not now. Please.”
“Come on. Come on. Come on.” He’s facing the cars behind us.
“What are you doing? We’re stuck. We’re just stuck.” I rub my face. “We’ll have to...hope for a later flight.”
“This is the last one out tonight.”
“Oh God.”
“We’re getting on it,” he says stubbornly. “Just...just wait.”
The cars behind us begin to blur into one. This is over. We won’t reach Steffi. The honking of horns is deafening, the endless sea of lights depressing. I hear the roar of some kind of engine, but I don’t care what it is.
“There!” Esben shouts excitedly. “There!”
I stare in shock as four tough-looking motorcyclists pull up next to us. “You must be Allison and Esben. Heard you two need a lift.”
The guys look to be in their midfifties, all with thick graying beards, denim and leather outfits, heavy boots, and bandannas knotted around their heads. Tattoos are everywhere. They’re also all wearing sunglasses, despite the time of night.
“Oh boy,” Esben says.
“You’re definitely posting this insanity,” I say with a laugh. “Steffi won’t forgive us if we don’t.”