Memoirs of a Lady Ch. 10

Suddenly, a bright flash like a paparazzi camera lit the interior of the cabin, followed quickly by another. My head spun. What was it?

"Oh my God. Look!" I followed his gaze out the window.

Blackness at first, then the clouds lit up from within several times. Rain washed over the windows now and trails of it, streamed off of the wing behind us. A couple of miles away, off to our starboard side, a huge lightning storm was lighting up the night sky. Another flash and a bolt danced among several clouds for what seemed like seconds. The clouds near and far traded spears of light that would make a professional photographer grateful to be on our flight, but it scared me. Lightning always scared me.

The plane began to bounce as though we were driving along a bad road. The seatbelt light binged above us and the intercom clicked on, filling the cabin with static.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. This is the captain speaking. Sorry to bother you at this time, but I have asked the crew to come by and check everyone. As you can see, I have illuminated the seat belt sign. So, at this time, I would like everyone to take their seats and fasten your seatbelts securely. We have just crossed over the Mississippi River and we are encountering a little turbulence stemming from a front just north of us."

The captain clicked off and the familiar tap, tap, tap climbed the steps to first class again. I pulled my dress down and fumbled for my seat belt. The man next to me was already buttoning his jeans closed. He finished the last one, just as the stewardess reached our seats. The cabin lights came on and I finally found the other end of my seatbelt.

"Are you okay?" She asked, less concerned for our safety than nosey. I think she knew something was going on.

"Yes, fine…thank you. Is this turbulence going to continue?" I was worried. Flying and storms, I had read about the results too often.

"Well, I'm not sure," she began, looking towards the captain's cabin ahead of us, "but I believe the captain is trying to find out how far the storm extends towards Dallas. Perhaps we can get permission to fly above it."

She moved on to the seats in front of us, working her way through the cabin. Several other overhead lights were clicking on and at least one person was complaining out loud about being taken from their sleep. I watched the storm and gripped my seat.

A huge flash lit the interior again, but this time quickly followed by a loud rumble of thunder. The plane continued to rock and roll.

"Yeeha! That was a close one," commented my formerly stiff companion. It was not something I wanted to hear. I looked at his face. Clearly something was wrong with him. He was smiling and looked a little delirious. "This is going to be some ride, just like a rollercoaster."

I wanted to put an end to any such line of thought. "But the stewardess said…"

"You can't believe everything they say, they're just trying to make you feel safe. Believe you me, I've ridden in these kinda storms before, comin' into DFW and they are somethin' else!" He paused for emphasis. "Air pockets are the best part. The plane just kinda falls out of the sky all of the sudden and slowly catches itself." He explained this last part complete with dramatic hand gestures.

"You know, I really don't want to hear about it. I prefer flights that simply get me there without the drama." Was he kidding? He really seemed to get off on this.

"Don't worry. Nothing bad's going to happen. I'll be sure and take care of you." He said in his best pretty-boy, let-the-man-take-over patronizing crap.

Right, I thought and pulled the blanket up around my neck. What are you going to do? Keep the plane from falling out of the sky?

The static hummed from the speakers above our heads until…

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I have an update from the tower at DFW. The airport is receiving a little rain at the moment, but the storm outside will not be reaching them for several hours. We are less than an hour away from our descent into Dallas-Fort Worth, so we will be having a little bit of a bouncy ride, coming in. Please do not get out of your seats unless you have to and while you are seated, please keep your seatbelts fastened. I'll return with any weather updates. Thank you."

Great, just great, I thought.

The Looney Toon next to me threw an elbow and said, "See, I told ya."

I said a quick prayer for his special place in hell and looked for the headphones. Maybe a little music could help me escape. I found the headphones in the arm of my chair, plugged them in and put them on. I fumbled with the little switch on the seat, changing channels. Quickly, I turned past The Eagles, Blink 182, Billy Ray Cyrus and found the classical channel. Ironically, Richard Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyrie" was just starting. This was not the proper mood music to calm me down. I switched the channels a few more times and located some new age music. Some tune with Japanese flutes, kotos and hand percussion was attempting to lull the world to slumber. I stayed on that channel and thought about chanting.

For the next forty-five minutes, the plane rocked, jumped, rolled and did everything but glide gently. We finally burst out of the cloud cover on our descent and saw the lights of Dallas below us. Wind still pounded the plane, several times causing me to catch my stomach. As I white-knuckled the chair around me, my seatmate punctuated the air with several "yeahs, a woo-hoo and a couple of more yeehas!" as the flight dipped and parried through the air.

By the time we touched down (with a sideways lurch, I might add) and rolled to a reasonable stop on the runway, I was drained. The rest of the people in the cabin clapped for the captain and crew, but I just tried to breathe deeply. I felt relieved to be on the ground, but emotionally I was done.

The stewardess came by and checked on us again. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You look a little pale."

I rubbed my forehead and breathed deeply again. I assured her that I was fine, but I wanted to know how soon my connecting flight left for Mexico City. I needed time if I was going to prepare myself for another ride like that one.

"I don't have any information about your flight. Sorry, but we were a little busy with everyone. If you check at the gate when we deplane, they should be able to help you." She said that with all the warmth of an arctic wind. I was sorry I asked.

She left to deliver more news to the rest of first-class. The man next to me was more composed now. As I gathered the last of my carry-on items, he turned to me and watched. I looked up at him, wondering, "What now?"

"I'm really sorry you had such a rough flight." He sounded sincere.

I attempted a smile and said, "Yeah, I don't do well in tight situations, but…thank you. It sure started out well."

He laughed. "You can say that again. Say, are you stayin' somewhere in the Metroplex area? I could give you a ride or…" Now he was trying to be my friend? Well, at least I had a good excuse.

"No, I'm not. I'm just stopping over to catch another flight to Mexico City tonight. But thank you. At least we had fun while it lasted." I leaned over and kissed his cheek. He grinned, looked down sheepishly and rubbed his chin. Men like that can be so charming sometimes, so mature and handsome on the outside, but such little boys inside.

As the plane settled at the gate and we started disembarking, I thought of something…and turned to him.

"By the way, my name is Erica," I said, extending my hand.

He smiled, taking my hand. "Sam." Funny, of all the men I had known, not another Sam.

"Nice to have met you, Sam."

"Same for me, Erica. See ya. I won't be forgettin' you any time soon." And with a nod of his head, he disappeared down the stairs and out the door.

The jetway jammed about halfway to the gate and I should have known why, but I guess I was in denial. The sound of the airport got louder and louder as I approached the entrance, until it was a deafening roar. Hundreds, no thousands of people were milling about. I saw lines of people extending out of sight down the center aisle of the terminal from each gate.

At our gate, three attendants were waiting on a huge line. The lady in blue nearest the end looked up as I approached.

"Do you have any information about the next flight to Mexico City?" I was earnest and concerned.

She looked confused by my question. "I'm sorry, Miss, but the airport is closed now. The storm outside is getting worse and we've had to cancel all flights in and out of DFW."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. I was shocked. "But for how long?"

She just shrugged her shoulders. "You'll have to check at the KLM main desk. Our computers here are out, the storm, you know." She quickly turned back to her impatient customers.

I walked out into the center aisle and looked at what was going on. Utter chaos. Lines of frustrated passengers were stretched as far as I could see. Slowly, I made my way to the end of the terminal. Three in the morning and people were everywhere. Thank God, I didn't have any luggage.

I reached the front of the terminal. Hundreds of people were gathered there. After an hour's wait, I finally rode the tram to the main terminal. More chaos! Many people were sleeping in the aisles, on chairs…the line at the KLM desk was ridiculous. A woman, who looked very rattled, taking care of first-class and business passengers, was making her way down the line. I stopped her.

"Where is the Club for first-class?" I asked wearily.

"Down the hall and to the right. Take the elevator up to three. Follow the signs. Good luck," she said and buzzed on down the line.

Good luck? I didn't like the sound of that.

I found the club just like she said, but it was no better. I waited and watched the main part of the storm blow in.

Half-past four in the morning and I was finally talking to someone who might know something. A haggard-looking woman in a black company suit furiously typed into a working computer.

"Sorry, miss, but your flight is still sitting on the ground in Mexico City. The storm will not clear for at least another eight hours, they tell us. So, the only thing I can tell you for certain is that you will not be leaving today."

"Is there another flight that I can take instead?" I tossed a leaf into the wind.

She smiled at me. This was not good.

"I'm sorry, miss. Could I assist you in finding a hotel in the area?" She looked at me then over my shoulder at the immense line behind me.

Following the "Let's be friendly" manual to the last page, she proceeded to call dozens of hotels in the area on my behalf. As it turned out, a cattle auction and computer convention had almost every room sewn up in advance and the rest were being taken by the airport refugees.

She gave me the numbers for several businesses that could line me up with a place to stay when they opened in four hours. I asked where the rental car agencies were.

The rental car offices were next to baggage downstairs and you guessed it, the madness continued. The line at Hertz seemed to be the shortest, so I started there. But by the time the line was only half-gone, they announced that they were out of cars. I tried another line with the same results.

Giving up, I followed the signs for Ground Transportation. Outside, lines of people stood at the Rent-A-Bus stop and the Taxi stop. The rain was coming down in buckets, sideways. Water stood a foot deep against the curb and washed over it every time a car or truck drove by. I looked down. Naturally, I was in open-toed pumps.

I looked up and screamed to the heavens, "What did I do to deserve this?" Behind me, a woman's laugh reached my ears. I turned and saw a big-haired brunette with a long Burberry coat, jeans and boots, sitting on a bench.

"Didn't exactly dress for the weather, did ya'll?" she asked in her twangy accent.

I smiled a polite smile. "How do we get out of here?" I asked, yelling over all the noise.

"I don't exactly know. I stood over there for about twenty minutes and I ain't seen no one leavin'. Normally, they's rows of them yella taxis right here, but I ain't seen a one for a while now." Resigned to the fate the weather brings, she showed signs of wisdom.

I joined her on the bench, deciding to wait and see if Providence would wake up any time soon and watch over me.

For the next ten minutes, little traffic drove by, just the occasional car leaving with its passengers, but no taxis or busses.

Suddenly, far to my left near a parking structure over four lanes of asphalt, I saw them. Three yellow taxis were stopped, letting passengers out. I didn't say anything. I jumped up, pulling my carry-on along behind me and ran into the rain. I splashed my way through two sets of rivers along the curbs and reached the third when a semi and bus drove by in front of me. I stopped, almost toppling off my heels into the street. The semi roared by, but the bus splashed through the curb. A wave eight feet high washed over my head. I was drenched. So much for my brushed silk Versace. I started to yell at the bus as it sped away, but quickly noticed my big-haired friend running across the street in front of me.

I took off after her. Two taxis were left across the next asphalt lane. I caught up with her halfway across the road, when my left foot went out from under me. I fell face first into the street in about six inches of water. I was more surprised than hurt. I pushed up out of the water and looked. One taxi drove off and Big Hair got in the last one. I tried to get up, but my left pump's heel was broken. As I searched to find it, I saw my purse floating away. I took two quick steps after it, but it rolled into a whirlpool and was sucked out of sight into a culvert.

"Oh no." I looked up and watched Big Hair ride away with the last taxi.

"God damn it, you bitch!" I yelled after her, then screamed at the laughing gods above. I was furious. How could she keep the last taxi all to herself? I looked back and saw my carry-on lying in the middle of the street. I hobbled back and bent to pick it up. Just then, two bright headlights swung out of the dark driveway exiting the parking structure and hurtled right towards me. I tried to run, but just fell again. I grabbed my head as I heard the sickening skid of tires on wet pavement. They stopped.

A door flew open and a pair of boots tromped through the water. Two strong hands picked me up. It was he.

"Well, damn sister, what happened to you?" said Sam, smiling down at me, "You're soaked through."

I hate this when others do it, but I started to cry. Big heaping sobs just burst out of me. Sam wrapped his arms around me right there in the rain and held me.

"Oh, sugar. It's okay. It's okay," he said, patting me on my back.

"No, it's not!" I hated this. Hated feeling helpless. Hated feeling weak.

"C'mon…c'mon, let's get you out of here." He reached down to my legs and picked me up. I was surprised, but in no condition to argue. He carried me to his truck. It was one of those huge, extended cab pickups. All white, with a row of fog lamps across the top of the cab. He opened the door and put me in.

"I'll get it all wet," I said meekly. I wiped my eyes. Black mascara covered my fingers.

"You're fine, darlin'…it's had worse." He shut the door and ran off.

He got my carry-on, put it behind the seat and climbed in. He turned on the heat. "Now where do you want to go?"

"I don't have any place to stay yet. They told me most of the hotels are full."

He looked at me and thought for a moment. "You can stay at our place, if you want. It's not much, but it's got plenty of room. How 'bout it?" He had one hand on the wheel and one on the shift, but his eyes held mine, waiting.

"Our place?" A little worry crept into my misery.

"I work at a ranch just north of Ft. Worth, near Eagle Mountain Lake. It's real homey."

I looked up at his smiling face and outside at the hundreds waiting for a cab. "Just get me out of here."

He put the big truck in drive and headed out of the airport.

"I was hoping that I might get to see you…" His voice was cheery…you know, "up." I wasn't . I cut him off with a look. He got it. His face was kind and full of understanding. He smiled at me quickly and went back to driving. I appreciated the silence. I needed it. If I had any thoughts about not trusting Sam, this act alone put them to rest.

As we drove through the rain in silence, I started thinking about Enrique again, wondering where he was staying tonight. Was he also out in the rain and weather like me? Or was he hiding in the basement of a church or monastery someplace, hidden by Padre Ramirez?

The good padre had been my one link to try and find out more about Enrique after I received his letter. I had managed to contact him through a good friend in Mexico City. Bernardo Sandoval was not a man to be trifled with. Through his banking connections, he had managed to carve out quite a nice little empire with his resort development company in northern Baja. He had sponsored me some years ago in Acapulco, long before the fiasco in Cabo. His wife of many years had died and he wanted companionship. We had become very close. He was a nice man, respectful to his friends, treating them like family. But as warm as he was to his friends, he was equally harsh to those he didn't like.

Through him, I sent a letter for Padre Ramirez, telling him what had happened in Cabo as I knew it. The padre had written back quickly, telling me that I needed to act, not so much for Enrique, but for myself. He was right. My own guilt was eating away at me, making me feel helpless.

Bernardo helped me with contacting a good attorney in Cabo, Señor Alamondro. I phoned him and told him of Enrique's innocence and my intentions. We settled terms and he hired a detective to quietly complete his own investigation into the facts of the case. Alamondro had sent me only one update in the months that followed and that one was simple. "Found evidence to support our case. Will contact you soon. It's looking very positive."

In the back of my mind while I completed business and visited friends, I had wondered what might happen. I wasn't expecting the message in Amsterdam.

I must have drifted in and out of sleep during the trip to Sam's ranch because before I knew it, we rolled over a cattle guard and beneath an arched sign on a dirt road. Out in the countryside, everything was dark. Only the occasional flash of lightning showed much of anything. Trees were everywhere. Sam pulled the truck up to a door with a light above it and jumped out. I sat there for a moment by myself, watching the wipers brush the water away, wondering how I was going to get to Baja.

My door opened and Sam reached in for me. "It's okay, I can walk."

"Please let me. It's really muddy out here." I nodded and he carried me inside. He put me down and turned on a light. I was in a laundry room. My carry-on was at my feet. Sam came back with a couple of towels.

"Here, you can dry yourself a little with this." He sat, taking off his dirty boots. "Why don't you leave your shoes and sweater here and I'll take you to your room?" I followed Sam into the house as the wind and rain drummed against the outside. In the dark, I couldn't make out much, but finally a light flicked on.

"Up here," said Sam, climbing some stairs. "You can stay here tonight. It's a guestroom, and I think there's a robe in the bath. Just a sec." Sam disappeared into the dark room, eventually turning on a light. Before me was a huge bed on a pedestal, complete with drapery at its head. Arabian carpets covered a red Spanish tiled floor and an antique armoire almost covered one wall. Sam flicked on another light.

"This here's the bath. I know you must be exhausted. Do you need anything else?" Still drenched himself, he was waiting on me.