New Connections (#CupidStrikesOnNewYears)

New Connections

I had been travelling to Las Vegas for the past four years. 

As soon as I had graduated from the local university, my parents retired and moved to Sin City. Unconventional, but there was really nothing normal about Jim and Dana Rocca.  I had tried to convince them to come to me for a change, but they insisted that a New Years without the frosty weather of Chicago was the way to go. 

I sighed and sat up on the ripped leather seat of the plane. The chaos of landing had already begun: Families cut one another off to grab bags from the overhead compartments, and babies wailed as their ears popped. I reluctantly forced myself to my feet and wedged my body between two other people, cringing as the stench of one person's cloying cologne combined with the other's complementary coffee breath. I stood on my tiptoes and shoved a hand into the compartment, sweeping it from side to side in search of my pink carry-on. The turbulence must have shifted it to the back of the alcove - I couldn't even make contact.

"Here," a voice said just before my bag dropped down, nearly beaming me in the head.

Before I could  thank - or berate - the voice, I turned to find everyone filing off the plane at once. The mystery voice had been lost in the crowd.

I sighed again and slung the bag over my shoulder, praying my laptop hadn't gotten crushed in the fray. As I shifted from foot to foot, waiting for a space to open up so I could slip off the plane, I turned my phone off of airplane mode. Notifications came pouring in as I made my way onto the ramp leading into the airport. My heart dropped into my stomach as a cheery, automated message from the airport's app flashed on the screen.

Your 7:00pm flight from Atlanta to Las Vegas has been rescheduled to 6:00pm! See you in the air!

My breathing ceased as my eyes crept up the phone's screen to peer at the time.

5:55pm.

"Excuse me!" I practically shouted as soon as I finally began breathing again. "Pardon me!" 

As soon as I reached my gate, I skidded to a halt in front of the counter. An airport employee had just closed the heavy door leading to the down ramp.

"Excuse me!" I called as I let my bag drop to my feet. I blew a piece of blonde hair out of my eyes and gasped. "I need to get on that plane!"

"I'm sorry, miss. We're no longer board-"

"HEY!"

Both the employee and I jumped at the very loud, very familiar  voice.

A man came skidding behind me, polished black loafers narrowly missing my bag. He too had a bag slung over his shoulder. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair, tousling it. I scrunched my nose as that cologne smell once again assaulted my nose. "That's my plane!"

The employee closed her eyes briefly. "I'm sorry, sir."

As the employee began to give a canned speech, my focus drifted to the window. A large plane - my plane - was steadily rolling away and out of sight.

"This is ridiculous!" The man practically shouted, drawing my attention back to the conversation. "How am I supposed to get off a plane at ten to six and then board another plane with no forewarning?"

In response to the man's rising voice, another employee came over. He introduced himself as one of the managers on duty before slipping behind the desk and rapping on the computer's keyboard. 

"It appears that there is no other flight to Las Vegas until tomorrow," he said with a sad purse on his lips. "We sincerely apologize for the situation. Why don't we put you two up in a hotel for the night? Free of charge. I'll even throw in a free dinner and some spending money for the inconvenience."