Chapter 9 - Terminal Ambush
The morning sun broke over the horizon, painting the sky in pale shades of gold and violet.
Daniel and I stepped out of our rideshare at the international terminal of the airport, feeling refreshed and invincible. We were booked on an 11:30 AM direct flight to Athens, having quietly upgraded our tickets to First Class using airline miles I had hoarded over years of business travel. We had checked our bags through priority curbside drop-off and were strolling toward the private security line, coffee cups in hand, laughing about the absurdities of the previous night.
Then I saw the luggage.
Piled near the main airline check-in counter were six massive, hot-pink designer suitcases.
Sitting atop one of the oversized bags, wearing oversized dark sunglasses and a trench coat over sweatpants, was Khloe. Standing at the counter, slamming both palms furiously against the polished marble surface, was my mother.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Daniel grabbed my arm, his eyes widening in pure disbelief.
"You have got to be kidding me," Daniel muttered.
Mom hadn't checked her email. She hadn't checked the credit card alerts. Despite everything that had happened at the wedding—despite the confrontation, the cancellation, and the police warnings—Mom and Khloe had actually packed their bags and shown up at the airport, fully expecting to board that flight to Greece.
"What do you mean the reservation is canceled?!" Mom’s voice shrieked across the echoing terminal, turning the heads of hundreds of busy travelers. "I have the confirmation numbers right here! Two business-class tickets to Athens! Look at the screen!"
The gate agent, a polished woman with silver hair and an expression of titanium patience, didn't flinch. "Ma'am, as I have explained three times already, those tickets were booked under the card ending in 4102. The primary cardholder reported the charge as unauthorized yesterday afternoon. The transaction was voided and refunded. Those tickets no longer exist."
"Then rebook them!" Mom screamed, thrusting the same frozen credit card into the agent’s face. "Charge it again! I have authorization! I am the traveler's mother!"
"Mom, stop," Khloe whined from the suitcases, pulling down her sunglasses. "My morning sickness is kicking in and I need to be in business class so I can lie down! Just fix it!"
I stood about thirty feet away, watching the spectacle. The audacity was almost magnificent. Mom truly believed that if she made enough noise, if she threw a big enough tantrum in public, the world would bend to her will just like I always had.
Daniel looked at me, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Do you want to take the private security lane and leave them to it?"
May you like
I looked at my mother, then at Khloe, then at the exhausted airline employee who was reaching for her security radio.
"No," I said, my voice steady and resolute. "Let's finish this."
