Post by Deleted on May 2, 2014 16:47:10 GMT -6
It’s a sunny day outside the small Columbia Regional Airport as we see planes moving about the runways. One plane in particular can be seen coming out of the sun’s shinning gaze and hitting the runway, bouncing about on its wheels as it begins reducing its speed. It comes to a stop and we hear a lady’s voice.
“Welcome to Columbia… Thank you for flying American Eagle and we hope to see you again real soon.”
We fade from the plane to inside the terminal at the gate where the plane is letting off. Various people are flooding into the airport with their luggage in tow. Businessmen already making phone calls, Women trying to get their kids to stop fidgeting with their backpacks and hold their hands… But one man emerging from the gate into the modest sized airport catches our eye. He’s a large man. Short dark hair neatly spiked up and a neatly groomed, thin black beard. He’s in a black short sleeved Polo shirt, blue jeans and a pair of black military style boots. The man looked around. While the airport was “busy” as far as it seeming fairly full, the fact is that if you put a person every twelve inches from wall to wall it’d barely produce a noticeable presence in any of the major airports. This was a far cry from what he found when he arrived in Vancouver many years for his run Canada’s nationally televised Maple Leaf Wrestling and it was certainly a far cry from when he flew into Miami to start his run with Florida State Wrestling last year. This was easily the smallest airport our subject had ever been in, He shook his head as he adjusted the strap on his large black duffle bag slung over his shoulder and glanced down at the laptop case that he had in his hand like a briefcase. He begins to walk down the terminal, following the signs to “Baggage Claim”.
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”
“Watch Out!”
A kid with a loaded ice cream cone was running toward our bearded gentleman with its head turned, paying more attention to its apparent mother who was lugging around their bags. The kid began to turn her head just as the cone crushed into our former passenger’s crotch. The kid looked up, her eyes wide at the six foot two, two hundred and forty pounder who, when you’re five or six, seems like he might as well be teen foot tall and five hundred pounds.
She blinks a couple of times before she says, “You’re huuuuge.”
“Marissa!” the child’s mother says with surprise at what she perceives as an inappropriate comment to make to the large stranger.
Marissa, “You totally killed my ice cream cone big guy.”
The woman set’s down her bags and looks at the man, “I’m terribly sorry… Let me…”
She begins fishing through her purse until she finds some napkins. She starts to head for where the ice cream had left its mark but quickly realizes exactly where the ice cream collided and blushes as she stops.
“Oh geez… I’m sorry… Uh… Here…”
She extends the napkins to the man. He nods and accepts the napkins, beginning to wipe himself off with one hand, using the other hand to keep hold of his lap top case.
Marissa, “So uh… about my ice cream…”
“Marissa! Apologize to this man.’
Marissa, “Bu-t mommm…”
“Apologize!”
Marissa sighs, “Fine. I’m sorry you killed my ice cream.”
The kid rolls her eyes and walks around the guy as the mother blushes again and says, “I’m sorry… I don’t know what got into her…”
“American Eagle Flight Sixteen Thirty Two to Dallas/Fort Worth is now boarding… Please have your boarding pass out and ready as you line up.”
The woman get’s wide eyed and begins picking the bags back up.
“That’s us. I’m really sorry about the trouble sir.”
He nods as the woman rushes off, yelling at her kid to get over with her.
The man wipes some more ice cream off his lap and, realizing he’s got as much of it clean off as he’s gonna be able to, sighs and says, “Welcome to the Midwest.”
He shakes his head and drops the napkins in a nearby trash receptacle as he continues on his way to “Baggage Claim”.
“Passengers from American Eagle flight 247 from Chicago, your bags are now arriving on the D conveyer… Passengers from American Eagle flight 247 from Chicago, your bags are now arriving on the D Conveyer.”
The man walks over to the D Conveyer belt as the bags begin to emerge from behind the black hanging straps that separate the public side of the conveyer from the airport personnel side. The seconds turn into minutes as bags disappear one after another, as too do most of the passengers from the flight. Finally there’s no luggage nor passengers left at the conveyer and our bearded gentleman is still standing there with the same two bags he arrived with.
“Passengers from American Eagle flight 988 from Dallas/Fortworth… Your bags are now arriving on the D Conveyer… Passengers from American Eagle flight 988 from Dallas/Fort Worth… Your bags are now arriving on the D Conveyer.”
The man groans, “Well… That’s just awesome.”
He sighs and turns around, heading toward the baggage claims office. There’s a pudgy balding gentleman at the counter thumbing through a magazine, looking like he’d like to be anywhere else in the world right now.
“Excuse me.”
The guy glances up, looking completely uninterested.
“Yeah?”
Our bearded gentleman sighs, “My name is Brad McCain… I was on American Eagle flight two forty seven from Chicago and it appears that you lost my luggage.”
The portly employee scoffs, “I didn’t lose your luggage. I don’t handle the bags. We have baggage handlers for that. If anybody lost your luggage, they lost your luggage.”
Brad sighs but he nods acknowledging that, “Louis” –or so his golden name tag reads on his Eagle vest- was right.
Brad, “Right… I just meant your airline lost my luggage.”
Louis, “It’s not my airline. If I owned an airline do you think I’d be sitting here listening to some guy from Chicago whine about his luggage?”
Brad takes a deep breath through his nose, trying to stay patient.
Brad, “Look… Is there some kind of paperwork or something that I can be doing to get some sort of a process started to find my bags?”
Louis, “Did you check the conveyer belt?”
Brad blinks, not sure if this guy’s trying to be funny or really thought Brad may not have checked for his luggage at the conveyer belt.
Brad, “Uh… Yeah… I checked the conveyer belt. Conveyer D, just like the announcement said.”
Louis, “Are you sure you went to the right conveyer belt?”
Brad, “I think I can read the giant D on the sign… Yes, I went to the right conveyer belt.”
Louis sighs, “Alright… Hold on a minute.”
Louis turns and walks through a door behind him, presumably into an office as Brad sets his laptop and his duffle bag down on a chair that’s against the wall. Louis comes back from the back with a packet of papers and a cheap pen.
Louis, “Go through each sheet and fill out the information.”
Brad nods and grabs the packet.
Brad, “Do you have a clipboard or something I can write on?”
Louis looks annoyed as he sighs again. He reaches under the counter and withdraws a clipboard, extending it to Brad. Brad accepts, “Thanks.”
Louis rolls his eyes and goes back to his magazine as Brad takes a seat next to his luggage and begins filling out the paperwork.
Thirty minutes or so must have passed as Brad filled out sheet after sheet of tedious paperwork, getting distracted from time to time as Louis would lick his chubby fingers and turn the page of his magazine seemingly as loudly and as obnoxiously as humanly possible… Always adding an over dramatized sigh after each page turn as if Brad’s presence in the office was the biggest inconvenience since Moses realized there was a massive sea in the way of his march for freedom. Never the less, Brad was finally done. Finally done and not a moment too soon as he stood up, placing the papers on the counter.
Brad, “I think I’m done.”
Louis sarcastically quipped, “Swell.” And gave a sarcastic smile before going right back to his magazine.
Brad shook his head and inquired, “Is that it?”
Louis looks up with an annoyed expression and sarcastically replied, “Unless you think you can call your luggage and get it to jump out of whatever city it ended up in and come running, I’d say yeah… That’s it. Somebody’ll call ya if it turns up. I wouldn’t hold my breath… But if you wanta hold yours, go for it.”
Louis goes back to his magazine as Brad shakes his head and grabs his bags off the chair, throwing the duffle bag back over his shoulder and grabbing the lap top by the handle.
Just yesterday Brad had been in Miami where he’d built a huge fan following under the name “Braiden McCain”. He’d had an hour long main event that tore the roof off the Dade County Civic Center. Brad had spent a year in Florida building a name and working his way up the ladder and before that, he’d spent three years in Canada with Maple Leaf Wrestling doing the same. While few people in America knew anything of Maple Leaf Wrestling, in Canada it had national exposure. It might not have been on a WWE level but it was respectively close to a TNA level promotion in that region. Braiden was working five nights week and making decent money. Maybe not six figures a year like the average mainstream superstar but enough to live his life comfortably in the Great White North. However, year after year of those long, dark, snowy winters started getting to him. He was used to the cold growing up in Erie and getting buried in lake effect snow every year but, it was a whole different kind of cold up in Canada. He didn’t know how to describe it, he just knew he was ready to get back to the states and preferably to a much warmer climate than both Canada and Pennsylvania had to offer. Which is why he called up Daria Danger in December of 2012 and got her to talk to Florida State Wrestling promoter Nick Hudson about him. Daria had originated on the North East indy scene much like Brad and the two worked a lot of the same shows. They became friends and even went out a couple of times. The two eventually went their separate ways but they stayed in touch.
Brad knew the money probably wouldn’t be as good in Miami as it was in British Columbia. But he also knew that he could probably get certified to teach in Florida and go back to teaching Phys Ed and coaching high school wrestling as he once did in Pennsylvania. So if he could get the money to even out between teaching and FSW, it’d be well worth it to head back to the states and flea the great white north. So that’s what he did. And he did it for a year. He became a legitimate name in the south east. FSW was running TV on the local CW affiliate down that way and they were running Internet Pay Per View events. Just last week Braiden worked a fifty six minute match with the legendary “RockStar” Kevin Kasey. Things were going well but Braiden felt like he’d gotten as far as he was gonna go in Florida and he was ready for a change of pace. So when Danny Stevenson's nephew, Drew Stevenson, (who just happened to be in the area and in attendance at the aforementioned show), invited him to come to the Midwest for what he suspected would be similar money to what he was making in Florida, he decided to give it a shot. Miami was a paradise of sorts but, the Stevensons had ICWA connections and the ICWA was the big time. It was “the show” as they say in our industry. So Brad knew if he could come up to MSW and become a marquee guy, he’d be one step closer to getting a contract and going to the show.
Of course, little did he know that virtually immediately upon touching Missouri soil, things would go to Hell in a hand-basket. Some kid planting her ice cream in his fun basket… Losing his luggage… Encountering perhaps the worst baggage claim desk manager ever… And on top of that, now he was running late for his appointment to his apartment and his appointment to see Danny Stevenson. Brad had been in Missouri for less than an hour and was already wondering if he hadn’t made a mistake by leaving the safe confines of Florida State Wrestling where he had a comfortable spot on the card, a good pay rate and little to complain about outside of hot muggy summers.
These were the things he was thinking about as he approached the rent-a-car desk where a chubby middle aged woman was chatting on the phone with a much more happy-go-lucky personality than our last airport employee.
“Oh yeaaah… OH! Hehehehe… Well that’s just adorable. You tell her to make sure I get a copy of that picture.”
Brad sighs… “Excuse me…”
The woman puts up a finger as if to say “Just a moment” without even bothering to look up.
“Oh kay, hahaha… Alrighty then… Yeah, I’ll talk to ya later. Take care now… Buh-bye.”
She finally hangs up the phone and looks up with a friendly smile.
“Yes sir, how may I help you?”
Brad, “My name is Brad McCain… I set up a rental agreement with your company online. There should be a GMC Yukon Denali reserved for me.”
She begins typing into the computer.
“Hmm… I’m sorry sir, I don’t have any reservations under that name.”
Brad closes his eyes, probably counting to ten in his head to try and keep from letting this –thus far- rotten arrival get to him.
Brad, “That’s not possible.”
“Do you have a confirmation number with you for the reservation?”
Brad, “No, I didn’t save it…”
“Oh, I see… Well unfortunately, without that confirmation number there’s not much I can do.”
Brad, “Hold on a second… I should still have the email on my phone, let me just…”
He starts to dig into his pocket… Nothing. He checks the other pocket… Nothing. He drops his head back, closing his eyes as he faces the ceiling and sighs, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
Brad takes a deep breath and brings his head back down.
Brad, “Alright, forget it… Can I get a new rental agreement and rent the SUV without a reservation.”
“I’m sorry sir, that won’t be possible.”
Brad get’s a very straight faced expression as he says through his clenched jaw, “Why not?”
“We don’t have any SUVs left.”
Brad, “… It’s May. The holidays are done… Mother’s day isn’t for another two weeks… What’s with the shortage of SUVs?”
“The Smith family reunion is in town.”
Brad, “The Smith Family Reunion?”
“Oh yeah. Every year around this time the whole gosh darn Smith Family comes in from around the country and they get together here. It’s a big event for our little airport don’tcha know.”
She sighs but her sigh is a much more joyful sigh then the sighs we’ve received from Brad or the baggage claims guy.
Brad, “Fine… Then let me rent a truck.”
“I’d love too.”
Brad, “Great…”
“But I can’t.”
Brad, “…………”
“The Smith Family reunion’s in town ya know.”
Brad, “Fine. A Van. Mini Van. Whatever.”
“Aww geez… Ya know, it’s just that the Smith…”
Brad, “The Smith family reunion, right. Who knew that every Smith in the continental united states was a part of the same family? Alright… Look, I lost my luggage; I’m late for appointments… Whatever you’ve got. Just for God sakes… Please… Get me something.”
She begins typing around the computer until finally a big smile of relief crosses her face.
“Why Mister McCain, it’s your lucky day. I’ve got two cars left without a reservation and I’m going to make sure you get the bigger one. I just need a Visa, Mastercard or American Express and your driver’s license…”
Brad drops his big duffle bag on the floor and reaches into his back pocket withdrawing his warn black leather wallet. He withdraws his Visa and his driver’s license and places them on the counter, allowing her to run the card and punch in the appropriate information.
“And is the address on your license your mailing address too?”
His license was a Florida license with a Miami address. The address wasn’t good anymore but since he didn’t exactly have a mailing address in Columbia yet, he simply nodded.
Brad, “Yes.”
“Great… Would you like to add liability insurance for an extra fifteen dollars a day?”
Brad, “With the way my trip is going thus far? Yes. Lots and lots of insurance. Matter of fact, insure the insurance and then insure the insurance on the insurance.”
She laughs, “Okay now. That’s gonna be a hundred five dollars a day… heeerrreeee is your rental agreement (she withdraws some papers that just finished printing on the printer next to her). I just need you to read through those and then sign at all the exes.”
She withdraws a pen from a cup. Brad thumbs through, finding all of the exes and signing.
“Great...”
She withdraws some more papers from the printer and then reaches under the desk grabbing a pamphlet and a key on a key-fob keychain. She places all of it on the desk.
“There’s your copy of the rental agreement. If you just head outside, our shuttle bus will arrive momentarily, you just show him that pamphlet there and he’ll getcha where you need to go.”
Brad nods and reaches down, grabbing his duffle bag off the floor before getting the papers and the key off the desk.
“Have a great day and enjoy your time in Columbia.”
Brad groans as he walks toward the door.
It didn’t take that long for the shuttle to come around and pick up Brad and some other renters. It was after five and the sun was still shining pretty bright. Sunset wasn’t coming for a while but that end of the day feeling was in the air as the shuttle finally stopped in the company’s parking lot. The door drew open as the driver looked at Brad.
“Your car’s in L-8.”
Brad nods and finds his way off the bus with his bags in tow. He begins walking down the spaces, the first one being L1. He walks down L2, L3, L4, L5, L6. L7. L…………8 -_-
Brad, “………… Well then… I always wondered what a TV Dinner felt like. How lucky for me, I get to find out. I wonder if the key even works in this thing or if I need a match box loop-to-loop set to get this thing to run.”
He sighs, hitting a button the key-fob to pop open the back so he can discard his bag. He puts his laptop back there as well and closes it up before walking around and opening the driver’s side door. He pops a leg in and begins trying to force his six foot two, nearly two hundred forty pound frame into this tiny bug of a car. He makes sure the seat is back all the way but he still ends up getting completely cramped up. He groans as he closes the door. He moves around and squeezes his arm between his leg and the wheel to put in the key, starting the car.
Brad, “… If this is the bigger of the two cars available, I sure am glad she didn’t give me the MO-PED that must have been the second choice!”
He grits his teeth, his face turning red. He begins to take a couple of deep breaths…
Brad, “Alright… Forget it… Places to go… “
With that he shifts the car into reverse… We fade as he begins to back up and drive away.
Brad had found an apartment on Craigslist from Miami and looked at pictures of the interior and exterior. He was supposed to meet with the landlord at four thirty. Hoping for the best he utilized a mapquest sheet he’d printed out before he left on this less than pleasant journey last night. Unfortunately the land lady had evidently given up on him because she wasn’t there. So, without much else he could do, he made his way to the Missouri State Wrestling offices. He’d had an appointment scheduled with Danny Stevenson for five o’clock but now it was already approaching six. He pulled his little Volkswagon bug into the parking lot and maneuvered the car into a parking spot near the building. The car came to a stop and the door drew open. In what can best be described as “comical”, the large grappler maneuvered his way out of the tiny modernized Herby the Love Bug and closed the door. He glanced down at the small stain on his pants from the ice cream earlier and began feeling himself starting get clammy from being cramped in that little car that didn’t seem to have air conditioning. He wanted to change, maybe get a shower. He’d intended on having an opportunity to change into more professional attire before meeting with Danny Stevenson and while a Polo and stained jeans didn’t exactly measure up to a shirt and tie, he thought it probably was better than being any later. So he remained in his less than ideal garb and began walking quickly across the parking lot to the office building. He opened the door and walked in.
He walked over to the front desk where a young woman was seated, operating a lap top. Noticing Brad approaching she stands up and smiles.
“Hello. How may I help you this evening?”
He does his best to try and muster a smile but it doesn’t quite pan out. He hesitates slightly to ask, fearing he knows the answer but, he asks anyway…
Brad, “Is Mr. Stevenson still in?”
“Oh no, I’m sorry. You just missed him. He left about ten minutes ago.”
Brad sighs as drops a palm on the counter, looking utterly defeated.
“Rough day?”
Brad sighs, “You have no idea. I just flew in from Miami. I had two plane changes. I got to Columbia and I’m not two minutes off the plane and some kid spills ice cream all over me… The airline lost my luggage, there’s no telling where that ended up. The Baggage Claims manager was the biggest douche on the planet… Then the car rental service lost my reservation so instead of the SUV I requested, I’m driving a tuna can on wheels. On top of all that, my cell phone has gone MIA, So I couldn’t call anyone I had appointments lined up with to let them know I was going to be late because I had their numbers saved in the phone and as a result I didn’t get the apartment I was expecting to have and I missed my employment meeting with Mr. Stevenson so, I have no place to sleep and no assurance that I’ll have employment. Uggghhhhhh”
He takes a deep breath.
“Wow… I guess your day’s been a real bummer.”
He laughs, “Yeah… That’d be an accurate description. I’m sorry, I guess I just needed to vent.”
“Well, Danny’ll be in tomorrow between eight am and five pm. He’s a pretty understanding guy. I’m sure if you tell him what happened he’ll meet with you… In the meantime, I’m about to leave. I could show you to the closest motel.”
Brad, “I’d appreciate that. I need to find someplace to eat and some place to crash….”
“Sure… Give me a few minutes and I’ll show ya around our fair city.”
She laughs as Brad smiles, nods and says, “Thanks.”
Well… The day was shot… The arrival had thus far been a complete disaster. But, things could be worse. Brad wasn’t too sure how but, it was comforting to think they could be. At the very least at least he’d get a look around the city. And on the bright side? Things can only get better from here, right? …………… Right? =|