Meet Me on Thames Street • All Time Low

Chapter One

                                                           *Holly*
               It was July 2015. I was 18 and flying for the first time, to meet up with some internet friends of course. England. What a lovely name for a lovely country. I had spent all my life dreaming of this country, one that seemed so far away. Until now, that is.

               I had met Marianne, Michaela, and Carly through our mutual friends, this band called Alabama Capital. Yes, that Alabama Capital; those famous twin brothers. We had all started talking online just over 3 years ago, mainly sassing and insulting bands and youtubers. I never knew that they were destined to change my life forever.

               Marrianne and I had the exact same music taste, meaning we obsessed over All Time Low for the longest time. She lived in Ireland while I in Mississippi, and we never actually thought we’d get to meet the band, much less together. But after a lot of Skyping, crying, and planning, it was finally happening.

               I boarded the plane and settled in for my 10 hour flight, silently thanking myself for wearing sweatpants and a baggy band tee. I turned off my iPhone and fastened my seatbelt, listening intently to the flight attendant. The last thing I needed was to be thrown off before we were even in the air! Not that being thrown off while over the Atlantic Ocean would be much better.

               After we were finally 10,000 feet off of the ground, I turned my phone back on and switched to airplane mode so I could play music through my pink Gumy headphones. What else was I supposed to do for 10 whole hours? SLEEP? Not until I got passed the 2 hour layover in Chicago, at least. I smiled as I started my All Time Low playlist, silently mouthing along as Alex Gaskarth sang out the words of “Weightless”.

          The flight attendant came by every half hour and asked if I wanted juice or the cliché airplane peanuts. It was highly annoying and I asked her to please quit bothering me, even if it was her job. It may have seemed rude, but I surely would get her attention if I needed something. I guess you could say that I never really dealt well with strangers.

               We finally landed at Chicago O’Hare International Airport, where I had to wait for my carry-on bag to come around on the conveyer belt. I almost hopped on it myself, just to see if it was as fun as the movies made it out to be. After locating my bag and checking the time, I started to wander around the airport in search for food.

               An hour later, I had eaten a sub sandwich from Subway of course, and invaded the Starbucks near Terminal 3. That Grande Skinny Vanilla Latte was the best I’d had in months. I’d also explored the shops, but everything was priced an arm and a leg, so I left empty-handed.

               I boarded my new flight and wrapped myself up in my fleece Tinkerbell blanket after buckling my seatbelt and turning off my phone once more. Once we were in the air once more, I returned my phone to airplane mode and resumed my playlist before falling into a deep slumber with dreams of the city of my dreams. Little did I know at the time, some of those dreams would be coming true within the next two weeks.