Authors: Tim Tingle
“No, seriously, she won the Georgia Lottery, to the tune of 23.5 million dollars!”
“I heard that a local woman had won the Lottery, but I didn’t know it was Miranda! That’s great! So I guess she doesn’t really miss her job at the University, huh?”
“I don’t think so!”
“Won the Lottery! You can tell I don’t stay up on the news like I should. So how is she handling all that money?”
Travis smiled. “Pretty well, considering the changes it caused in her life. She has bought a nice home over on the Warrior River, and was putting in a pool when I talked to her two days ago.”
“Go Miranda! I’ll have to go sit with her around her pool and sip margaritas, and catch up on the gossip!”
“She would probably like that. She still doesn’t have many friends. She is wary of making new friends, because she thinks they might be drawn to her money.”
“It’s good that she is wary, because there are lots of wolves out there! I know, because I’ve met a few. But yes, I need to go see her when we get back from England.”
Hopefully,
you
won’t
have
to
visit
her
in
jail,
Travis thought, reflecting on the fact that she was, as they spoke, burying a Federal Judge under her swimming pool.
* * *
As they made the quick trip to Atlanta, Fred Cunningham stood in front of the bus and played word games with his students, and in the process, taught them some of the different words and phrases they would hear used in England. Fred was a jolly man, with a red nose, and a face that always smiled. He could well have been a character in Chaucer’s ‘Canterbury Tales’. It was plain to see that Fred enjoyed teaching English, and saw it as a
living
language, that was always changing and evolving. Each word was a complex and useful tool. It was a surprise to Travis, when Fred said: “We are honored to have someone on this trip who is an accomplished writer of fiction! In fact, he is going to be doing several book signings in London while we are there! I have read his novel, ‘The Relic’, and it is absolutely spine tingling! Mr. Travis Lee, stand up and be recognized!”
Embarrassed, Travis stood briefly and waved at the crowd. One student commented: “That is so cool! I read your book too, Mr. Lee! It was awesome!”
A girl spoke up. “Yes! I read an article in ‘Whisperings’ Magazine about your book! Didn’t someone read your book and have a stroke, or something? It scared them to death!”
(Travis’ mother just shook her head.)
“Well, it really wasn’t that dramatic.” Travis said. “But I have been selling a whole lot of books. I’m told that last week it was up to 3
rd
place on the Best-Sellers list in the UK.”
“Why is it doing so well in the U.K?” someone asked.
“I really don’t know why. I would like to think because it’s a good story, but there are thousands of good stories that never get published. I guess because it is being published and promoted by a London publisher, Jester Books. It was initially published in Canada, by Maple Leaf Publications, but they went bankrupt, and the publication rights were sold to Jester Books. So here I am, going to England to promote it.”
“You must be making
tons
of money off it!” one of the students conjectured.
“Actually, I think what they pay in is called
Pounds!”
Everyone laughed, and even Travis smiled, but behind the forced smile was the painful truth that he wasn’t making a
pence
in royalties from Jester Books. He had been crapped out of that by the late owner of Maple Leaf Publications, Ronald Fallon, who had sold the publication rights for ‘The Relic’ to Jester Books. And no doubt, for a nice sum of money, because both publishers realized the potential of the book. The only consolation was that Ron Fallon had ‘bought the farm’, and Travis didn’t think that dollars or pounds were accepted as legal tender in Hell. He liked to think that Fallon was now making regular payments with his soul.
Though Travis was not making any royalty money off his book, he was gaining something that he hoped would eventually be worth even more. He was building a reputation as a writer of really good fiction. He hoped to parley the notoriety gained with his first book into a publishing contract with a reputable company for his second book. If he could do that, he wouldn’t mind so much that his first one was a freebie.
* * *
They got to Atlanta well ahead of their boarding time. They unloaded at the Delta terminal, and everyone collected their own baggage. Drew helped Lois with hers, but she insisted on pulling the wheeled suitcase herself.
Professor Foust was everywhere, making sure everyone was off the bus, making sure they all crossed the street together, and making sure they all got into the proper line at the Delta check-in counter. Travis leaned over to Nikki and asked, “Has Foust ever led a trip like this before?”
“No, he has never been to England before either.”
“So this is going to be like the blind leading the blind?”
“Fred Cunningham has been there before. He’ll keep an eye on him.”
“I think we all need to keep an eye on him.”
“Who are you talking about?” Lois asked.
“The black haired professor, Steve Foust.”
“He’s never done this before?”
“Don’t worry, Mom. The tour company will have a guide with us once we get to England. The rest of us have traveled a lot too, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“There’s nothing to fear, but fear itself!” Drew spouted.
“Thank you, Winston Drew Churchill!”
“Churchill didn’t say that! It was Franklin Roosevelt!” Lois corrected him.
“You’re right, Mom, it was Roosevelt. My mistake.” He noted that Drew was starting to perspire, and he knew it wasn’t because of the temperature.
“Are you okay, Drew?”
“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you nervous about flying?”
“A little bit.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. People fly every day.”
“Yeah, but I don’t.”
“You’ll be fine. Look at these college kids, they’re not worried a bit.”
“They’ve probably flown before though.”
“After the first time, you’ll love it!”
“Maybe so.” It was clear that he still needed convincing. A blond haired college girl behind Lois spoke up.
“There’s nothing to flying! I do it all the time. Hi, my name is Audrey.” She extended to him a feminine handshake. “And you’re name is Drew?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
She laughed. “Ma’am? That’s the first time anyone has ever called me that!”
“I’m sorry!”
“No, it’s cool! It just makes me seem a lot older to be called Ma’am! I’m a freshman at UCA. What about you?”
“Me? Oh, I’m a senior.”
“A Senior! Wow, I didn’t know you were that old! Maybe I should call you ‘sir’? Do you play sports?”
“Football.”
Travis cut in, because he saw a misunderstanding in the making. “Actually Drew is a senior at Laurel Grove High School.”
“Oh, okay! That means we are about the same age. I graduated High School a year early.”
“Can you do that?” Drew asked.
“You couldn’t with your ‘B’s and ‘C’s.” His Dad answered.
“Listen, maybe we could hang out, since we are both too young to drink, and I think that’s the only reason some of these other college students are going on this trip, to go on a drinking spree.”
“I thought the college was taking them to England to teach them about Shakespeare and such.” Drew asked.
“Some of these students have never heard of Shakespeare, and still won’t know anything about him when they go home. They just want to be able to say to their friends that they partied in England this summer! Next year they will party in Paris, or Athens, or wherever the University offers a trip that year.”
“It doesn’t sound like much of a trip. They could stay home and get drunk.”
“Yes, that’s exactly the way I feel! They are going to waste a unique learning experience, because they will be too drunk to know what’s going on, most of the time.”
“In that case, you’re more than welcome to hang out with us, Audrey.” Travis said. “Is it okay with you, Drew?”
“Oh, yeah, sure!”
They got their boarding passes and went on to the departure gate, where they waited only a short time before loading up on the Delta flight to New York. Travis let Drew have his window seat, so he could see the sights as they took off. As they fastened their seatbelts, Travis showed him where the barf bag was, just in case. When the stewardess stood in front of the plane and gave out the instructions for a water landing, Drew’s eyes got big. She explained about the floatation devices under the seat, and the oxygen masks, and he looked at his Dad, who was browsing through the in-flight magazine.
“Don’t worry about all that, Drew. By law, they have to go over it at the start of every flight. Believe me, if the plane goes down, you won’t have to worry about any of it.”
“That’s what worries me! So what if we
do
go down?”
“Drew, flying is the ultimate expression of faith. You must have complete faith that the pilots know what they are doing, because your life is literally in their hands. If we go down, there is absolutely nothing we can do about it.”
“We can’t jump out with a parachute? Like you did in Colombia?”
“In that case,
I
was
the pilot, and we were flying at low altitude, and we actually
had
a parachute. Do you have a parachute?”
“No.”
“Then you must have faith in the pilots, that they will know what to do, in case something happens. You can survive a sinking ship, or a bus or train wreck, but if something happens at 35,000 feet, there is nowhere to go but down.”
“Is it too late for me to get off?”
“Yes it is. We’re starting to move. Want some chewing gum? Chewing gum causes your ears to pop as you go up and down in elevation. If they don’t pop, you’ll have an ear ache.”
“Right now an ear ache is the least of my worries, Dad! Are we speeding up?”
“Yeah, we’re headed for the runway. Once we get clearance, we will be like a rock being shot out of a slingshot! We will accelerate from zero to 150 mph in about ten seconds, because we have to go that fast to be able to get off the ground. And if you watch out the window, you will be amazed at how fast we leave the Earth behind! Just lay back in the seat and enjoy it!”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Here we go!”
The G force threw them back in their seats, as the plane sped down the runway, faster and faster, until the sides of the runway became a blur. Then the nose of the plane came up, and they shot skyward. Drew managed to look out the window as they went up, and saw the buildings in Atlanta quickly growing smaller, the interstate highways scurrying with ‘ants’. But the low hanging clouds soon caused all that to fade away, and there was nothing but white, until they got much higher, and popped out above the clouds.
“Well, what do you think now?”
“I’m dizzy. How fast are we going?”
“Probably between 500 and 600 miles per hour.”
“It doesn’t seem like we are moving that fast.”
“That’s because there is nothing to gauge it against. No mile markers in the clouds. We’ve leveled off, so we should be about 35,000 feet off the ground.”
“It’s kind of neat, but we still have to land, huh?”
“Landing is about as routine as taking off. Here comes the drink cart.”
“I don’t know if I can keep anything down.”
* * *
Almost two hours later they landed in New York, to change planes, this time to a British Airways flight. But the plane wasn’t in yet from its previous flight, so they were told that they would be delayed. Professor Foust was alarmed at this.
“But that will throw us late arriving in London! The tour director is supposed to be there to meet us! I need to call London, to let him know that we will be late!”
Professor Cunningham did not seem concerned at all. “Relax, Steve. Tour directors know all about flight delays.”
“But I need to call him!”
“No, when he gets to the airport, he’ll see that our flight has been delayed, and he’ll get a cup of tea and wait. No big deal.”
“I need to talk to someone in authority here! Excuse me, Miss! How long will this delay be? We are on a very tight schedule!”
In a British accent, she replied, “The flight is still approximately 45 minutes from New York. It will have to be serviced and refueled before it can be sent back up. We are looking at a 90 minute delay.”
“90 minutes! That’s an hour and a half!”
“Yes sir, an hour and a half, if you prefer to call it that.”
“Six of one, a half dozen of another.” Fred said out of boredom. But Steve was in no mood to accept a delay.
“I want to talk to your superior, young lady! There must be another flight we can take that will get us there on time! Call someone higher up!”
“I don’t have to call anyone, sir. I am adequately qualified to tell you that we have no plane! It is simply not here!”
“But we simply
must
get to London on time!”
Fred Cunningham stepped up to the counter. “Steve, I think you can use a beer! Tell you what, let’s go back up the concourse to that little bar we saw coming in. I’m buying!”
“But our flight . . .”
“When the plane gets here, I am sure they will announce it over the P.A. system, so let’s go have us a pint! Okay?”
“Someone needs to stay here to keep the students together.”
“I’m sure Nikki can do that.”
Nikki replied, “Sure, I’ll watch things here, Steve. Go ahead. Some of the students might want to go to the bar with you.” Four students immediately volunteered, always ready to try a new bar.
“I guess it can’t hurt. But someone come get us, if anything changes!”
As they left, Travis just shook his head. “So this guy is the head of the English Department?”