I don't recommend it

Much to my dismay, the smoothie place is unbelievably busy. Do people really like mashed together fruit, ice, and milk so much that they’re willing to stand around for it?

“The line is long,” whines AJ.

“We came all the way here from Terminal B. We can’t waste all our effort now.”

“The line is long.”

“And?”

“The line is long.”

“Yeah.”

“The line is long.”

I give her a sharp glare. “How many more times are you going to say that?”

“The line is long.”

I turn my back to her and pull out my phone. I need something, anything to pass the time. Seems my brother is still posting heart coated collages of his dog.

“The line is long,” AJ whispers, peering over my shoulder.

I shut my phone off and shove it deep into my pocket.

“Don’t do that! It’s creepy.”

“You probably stare at other peoples’ phones too. Everyone does when they think no one is looking.”

“No,” I lie.

She shuffles her feet around.

“What were you looking at?”

“My phone. Obviously.”

She rolls her eyes. “The line is long.”

This woman. What am I supposed to do with her? I’ve already made it this far with her, but she keeps pushing the limits.

“AJ,” I sigh. “This was your idea. You asked me to come with you. You wanted the smoothies, not me.”

“You should’ve taken your own advice and not talked to a stranger,” she smirks.

“I was being polite.”

“So was I.”

“No,” I argue. “You were being overly friendly.”

“You could’ve told me ‘No.’”

“You pressured me to come with you.”

“I didn’t do that!”

“It sure seemed that way.”

The way she posed the question, I felt like I didn’t have any choice but to accept. Refusal would have been offensive. In retrospect, I should have abandoned my pride to save myself from this mess. Too much stuff has happened that I would rather forget.

AJ crosses her arms and lets out a little breath of air.

“I’m sorry. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Ey! At least accept my apology better than that.”

“What were you expecting?” I shrug. “It’s your apology. I’m not obligated to do anything about it.”

“It’s considered nice to accept apologies. I thought you wanted to be polite.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Hmph.”

The person ahead of us is finally ordering. AJ steps forward in sync with the customer, somehow without breaking eye contact with me. Her eyes are narrowed combatively but they relax, and her gaze softens.

“I suppose there’s nothing I can do about that. Have it your way.”

She turns around to face the menu, uncrossing her arms. The options are more limited than those of a regular smoothie shop. Figures, this is an airport after all. Several of the items are crossed off the menu with a little ‘Sold Out’ label. All that’s left is disgusting green sludge. Classic flavors like strawberry banana weren’t even on the menu to begin with.

“Which one do you want?” AJ asks over her shoulder.

“I’m not getting anything.”

“What? We came here all the way from Terminal B!”

“Everything good is sold out.”

The people behind are grumbling under their breath and the cashier gives AJ a harsh stare with cold eyes. The cashier speaks in a deadpan voice, utterly soulless.

“You going to order or not?”

“Um. Ah...”

“Yes?”

“Are you really sold out of everything except the Green Fiber one?”

The cashier’s eyes seem to lose more and more life with each syllable.

“Yep. I don’t recommend it. Especially if you’re going to get on a flight soon.”

“Never mind then,” AJ decides. “We’re not ordering.”

You dragged me all the way to Terminal E and subjected me to your whining in a line and now you’re not going to order what you made us come here for?

AJ saunters out of the line and I follow at her heels. I was tempted to order just to spite her but It wouldn’t be fair to the employees. Instead, I settle for calling AJ out.

“What are you doing? You wanted a smoothie.”

“I changed my mind.”

Her hand darts up to her mouth in genuine sincerity.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you want to buy that drink? I assumed you didn’t want to but if you were planning to…”

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about everyone you made wait in line longer.”

“Ah. Right.”

Her shoulders slump and she pulls herself inward. I almost feel bad. I shouldn’t since this situation is all of her doing.

“We should go back and check on our flights,” I suggest.

“Oh. Good idea.”

A sense of relief floods over me. At long last this catastrophe is ending. In that cursed line, I thought it would never end. AJ’s extroversion is exhausting. Approaching the tram, I’ve never been so happy to see a crowded airport train in my life. But the view outside the windows is foreboding.

The cloudy weather has grown malignant. The windows are dark with broiling storm clouds, swirling with flashes of lighting. Sections of the sky are almost black, like night. Fat rain drops splatter across the glass panes, sliding down in thick streams.

“Whoa,” gasps AJ. “The weather got really bad.”

That’s an understatement.

“You think our flights are going to be cancelled?”

“They better not be.”

She’s whipped out her phone and is frantically searching for something.

“There isn’t anything in the airlines app so far.”

I check mine. So far, so good.

“We should get on the train,” I urge. “If things get bad they might close them down and then we’d have to walk back.”

Riding the return trip to Terminal B, the storm outside looks worse and worse. It’s almost impossible to make out the glowing white bodies of airplanes resting at their terminals. The lights of vehicles and equipment make eerie glowing orbs in the gloom. Thunder crashes like cymbals and the rain pounds on the tram ceiling like stomping boots.

As we step out into our terminal, a notification from the airline app confirms my suspicions.

“Huh,” mutters AJ. “They canceled my flight. What am I going to do now?”