Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Late Flights And Lost Luggage

1: We Don't Do Winter

by duckapple 11 reviews

Four girls. Four boys. Two airports. Oh the insanity.

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: G - Genres: Drama - Published: 2007-01-08 - Updated: 2007-01-09 - 530 words


"I think I have calves of steel." Evie proclaimed on our walk through the terminal. Who's idea was it to go to Chicago on winter break anyway? Oh that's right, we blame that one on Alex. The exchange student with more hair per cubic inch of scalp space than any human should rightfully have.

"I think you should lay off the crack." I said pulling my duffel bag higher on my shoulder. She only responded by stick her tongue out at me, which prompted a comment from Bridget.

"If I had that thing in my mouth I'd stick it out too."

Evie creased her eyebrows together. "Sometimes, I seriously hate you guys."

The three of us exchanged looks of disbelief, "Nah!"

Before I continue, allow me to introduce myself and my, I use this term lightly, colleagues. My name is Heather, and the girls you've just met, so to speak are my friends and business partners. Sort of.

Sort of, in the respect that three of the four of us are still in college. Minus Ms. Bridget the college grad turned intern overnight. More like last fall, but I digress.

What brings us to Chicago? Aside from the vacation wishes of a certain Austrian, work. More specifically Bridget's work. She's interning for some advertising company who've sent her to here. In the middle of December. Dead of winter.

Let this be said. I don't do winter. I'm from Louisiana originally. And Evie, she hails from Arizona. WE don't do winter. Not real winter anyway. Again, I digress.

"Hey! Lady!" Evie's voice has this way of cutting through even the deepest concentration of thought. "Come on, we've got a flight to catch."

"Right, I'm coming." So much for a background story.


Tours should not start like this. They should start on a good note, not lost in some airport with no luggage and no sign of my band mates. You may be asking yourself, how did this happen? Unfortunately I'm asking myself the same thing.

I don't know. I get handed a boarding pass and I go where it tells me to. Just protocol.

Not quite this time. No Pete. No Andy. No Joe. Not even Dirty.

The plastic square of technology pressed against my thigh in the pocket of my jeans has started to viberate causing me to jump. Not that I don't look insane enough holding way too much baggage, a gig bag, and a laptop case.

"Shit. I'm coming. I'm coming." I mumbled aloud to the phone in my pocket, and coincidently half of the people standing in a two foot radius of me.

"Hello?" I managed to breath out after a fight with the tightness of my pants. Pete's idea. Never, under any circumstance, ever let that man buy you pants.

"Trick? What the hell happened to you man? We lost you in O'Hare." Pete's voice came through the tiny speaker and much higher volume than I'm sure he thought it was.

"Volume much Wentz? And I don't know where I am. I just followed my boarding pass. This may be asking too much of you, but for the love of yourself. Get me home."
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