Do you know the address?
Sure. It’s at the corner of get a map and f**k off.
Incredibly, I was on time. She was sat on the step with her suitcase. She jumped up and greeted me like an excited puppy.
“I’ve called for the taxi. It’ll be here in fifteen minutes.” I sat on the step.
“I am so excited.” She held my hand and put her head on my shoulder. “I love you.”
“I love you. There had better be loads of sex on this holiday. Hot weather makes me horny.”
“Me too. There will be. More than you can handle.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Have you got your passport?”
“Enough to buy me all the stuff?”
“I don’t have enough money to buy your all the stuff”
The taxi pulled up outside. We squeezed our luggage in the boot and sat in the back.
I watched the world go by, whilst she hummed under her breath. Then she would squeeze my hand and then carry on sounding like a demented insect.
The airport was busy. Over the years it had got much bigger and now there were always people milling around. Shouting parents trying to keep excited children together, busy people in suits and briefcases, flying to meetings.
The queue to check-in was hell.
She got nervous when the plane took off, but we talked about work, the holiday and her birthday. Well she did. I just listened and agreed.
The pilot then announced we’d be coming in to land and that it was about thirty degrees higher than back home. The plane came to a halt outside a small terminal building. As we walked down the steps, the heat from the evening hit us. The air was so warm on our faces.
I was a bit worried the place was apparently quiet and secluded. She had said it didn’t matter, but she started to be a little more concerned when the ‘no-English, me-loco’ taxi driver with long hair and a heavy metal beard swung his car round the narrow, winding mountain roads and continued ever upward.
We showed him the address on a piece of paper. He squinted, nodded and accelerated.
“Where are we going?” The car bounced from side to side. It had been a good ten minutes since we had gone through the last town.
The car finally started to slow. It pulled in at the side of the road between two fields of orange trees. The dimness of evening was well on the way.
The driver turned, pointed and nodded.
The man threw our bags out of the boot, took the cash and reversed at speed back down the road, leaving us stood there, covered in dust.
“What do we do now?”