Staring at Sam’s face, I thought that was the most profound thing I had ever heard in my life. It reminded me of what William had told me that late night in the car when he talked about how ironic it was me being a flight attendant with so much baggage. And he was right. It was like an “Ah ha” moment, a light bulb moment, a moment of clarity. And for the first time, I reached for my coat and left without my overstuffed rolling bag, feeling lighter than I had felt in my entire life.

With thirty minutes and counting our mad dash began. Racing down the stairs and out of the building, we all three ran into the street each desperately trying to hail down a cab. Yelling, screaming, whistling. Finding no luck, Sam ran over to Gail, stood behind her, and pulled up the back of her coat and skirt, flashing Gail’s hot red holiday panties. Almost every cab in Baltimore came screeching to a halt as we all jumped in the first one and raced down the road.

“To BWI. Get us there in fifteen minutes and there’s a hundred-dollar tip.”

“Hold on!”

The driver slammed his foot on the gas sending us almost flying through the back of the cab as he broke almost every law from speeding to running red lights to driving on the opposite side of the yellow lines. Obviously short on holiday cash, he was pulling out all the stops. We swayed and swerved like a pinball machine as the cab changed lanes, zooming through the highways, finally making his way through to Trans-Europe airlines. Hopping out of the car, throwing him all the crinkled up bills we could find, we were cutting it close, as it was now 11:35. We had no clout to get us through the international travel line that seemed to wrap around the entire airport.

“This is going to take us forever. It’s a million people in this line. No way can we make it in time.”

“Where there’s a Gail, there’s always a way.”

Handing Sam her coat, adjusting her breasts, and raising her skirt, Gail made her way to the front of the line and up to the male gate agent. As she whispered in his ear, he began to smile. Then she slid her hand between his inner thighs, and his smile grew wider and wider until we saw his hand waving us to the front of the line. Sam grabbed my arm and we ran past angry passengers cussing and fussing in foreign languages, but since we couldn’t understand what they were saying, it had no effect. Once to the front of the line, waving my ticket, I passed through. Sam and Gail followed behind.

“Sorry, only passengers with tickets past this point.”

“But they’re with me.”

“I’m sorry, it’s airport policy.”

“Forget about us, Montana, go!”

“Go get your man, Girl!”