Not Getting Any

"Holy shit." I gasped at the bitter wind that stung my cheeks the instant I stuck my head outside the plane. "It's freezing out here!"

"What did you expect?" Taylor asked from behind me. "Eighty-degree weather? Welcome to Canada, babe."

"Thank you for traveling with us." The flight attendant, or 'Peanut Girl' as I'll always remember her, sent me a paste-white smile as I steadied myself against the wind.

"Thank you." I tried to replicate her false tones, but my words came out nearly as bitter as the wind. Fortunately, I didn't have to worry about that anymore - I now had the task of getting myself down the tiny steps of the plane without tripping and either killing or making an ass of myself. I'm sure the other passengers would applaud either result; they weren't the most friendly group I'd been confined in a small area with for several hours.

They couldn't complain for the second half of the trip though, I thought, glancing at the straddled line of passengers ahead of me.

God bless on-flight movies. Clutching the rails of the stairs, I tentatively stepped down onto one step with my left foot, then my right, my body tightening as the entire set of stairs wobbled underneath my weight. Which isn't actually that much, the fact that frightened me most. The stairs were also about two inches wider than my size 4 hips.

Time for step number two-"Let's go already!"

A shout from behind interrupted my thoughts. Sucking in my breath, I tiptoed down the remaining seven stairs as quickly as possible. The last thing I wanted was a mob of people attacking me. Slight annoyance I could handle, but not a frontal attack. It might've just been the wind, but I could've sworn I heard a whistle behind me. Turning around, I caught sight of my boyfriend sliding down both rails on his backside, arms raised high above his head. After landing on the cement with a clump, he flung them open, as if expecting a round of thundrous applause.

"Well, you're not getting any from me." After rolling my eyes at his wild display, I sent Taylor a warning look.

"Don't I know it." He joked, dropping his arms and joining my side. Amidst the extreme cold, his cheeks had turned a ruddy shade of pink and I watched puffs of vapor come from his mouth as he exhaled. Remembering my nightmare, I shuddered slightly. Taylor noticed and took it as from the weather.

"Cold?" He asked, reaching his hands around me and rubbing my upper arms.

"What are you talking about?" I waved my arms to our gray surroundings. "I was ready to whip out the bikini and stretch out on the runway for a nice, Canadian tan."

"That's not a bad idea," I could see the mental image behind Taylor's eyes as his voice drifted off. For that, he more than deserved a slug in the chest, so I gave him one.

"Reality check here Taylor: we're standing in the middle of the airplane parking lot. I'm freezing my ass off and we're now the last people off the plane." I pointed out the obvious. "Not that the other passengers wouldn't mind if I stayed out here, but I'd rather not."

"Yeah, they didn't seem to be very fond of you." Taylor remarked, counting off on his fingers as we made our way to the terminal entrance. "But let's see, you got yourself locked in the bathroom before take-off, pissed off a very large woman when you pulled your coat out of the overhead compartment and knocked one of her bags onto the lap of the man across the aisle, not to mention how much he'd like your head on the stick, and then started screaming at the top of your lungs when-"

"Ok, I don't need a recap." I glared at Taylor. "So please refrain from giving me one."

"Someone's a cranky travelor." He retorted lightly. "Between the two of us, I'm the one who deserves to be cranky."

What do you mean? I almost started to ask, when I realized he was right. I'd have been embarrassed if I were Taylor by my actions. In fact, they lingered close to public humiliation. I glanced up, caught his knowing smile, and sent him a sheepish one of my own.

"Taylor, I'm sorry." I ducked my head underneathe his arm as he held the terminal door open for me. I relaxed as warm waves of heat brushed against the top of my head a few feet into the terminal.

"Not a problem." He replied cheerfully.

"You're amazing." I shook my head at him. "I don't think I've ever seen you in a bad mood."

"I was in a.. 'bad mood' when I met you last year." His smile faded slightly at the memory.

"And you had every right to be." I glanced up at him and bit down on my upper lip, remembering how I'd upset him.

"Maybe, but still I could've handled it better. Like sitting down and talking to you like a rational person."

"I don't want a rational person." I grinned and hugged his waist tightly. "I love you."

"You know, you're right: I am amazing," He rolled his eyes before kissing the top of my head and adding, "Love you too. I appreciate you coming up here with me."

"Not a problem." I released Taylor's waist as his voice saddened. I widened my smile as I stepped onto my tiptoes to brush a kiss on his cheek. "Have I ever said that I don't deserve you?"

"Not since we got off the plane, no." He laughed lightly, his shoulder bouncing against mine. "But at least you know your place."

"My place!?" I immediately narrowed my eyes. "I'm afraid to ask where that is."

"By my side.." Catching the look on my face, he added. "As my equal."

"As your superior," I corrected him with a coy look.

"Sorry, Ma'am." He shook his head. "I can't call anyone who locks themself in a bathroom my superior."

"You knew?" My mouth dropped open.

"Surprised, huh?" He briefly looked deeply into my eyes. For some reason, it made me nervous and I swallowed lightly. I couldn't help but wonder what else he knew and wasn't telling me. Fortunately, we'd reached the escalator platform and I didn't want to appear afraid of escalators, clutching my boyfriend while riding up it. Escalators are neat for one reason: the very end. When we reached the top of it, I took a few steps backward, making it feel like I wasn't walking anywhere. Unfortunately, Taylor smacked into me from behind.

"Oof!" He clutched his stomach seconds as my elbow smashed into it. "Warn me if you're going to do that."

"Sorry," I giggled behind my shoulder as he shoved me lightly over the top of the stairs. As I jogged to a stop, my mouth dropped open at sight in front of us. An amazingly complicated-looking series of connecting terminals and hallways all seemed to meet right here. Whichever one we were supposed to take, I hadn't the foggiest. I glanced at Taylor for help.

"Don't look at me for which way to go." He replied, as if reading my thoughts. "I've never been here before."

"Damn Canadians.. Where were we supposed to meet your family members?"

"Terminal 2-L. That much I do know."

"And where are we now?" I turned my head around and sighed when I caught sight of the bold 6-A that was a few inches above Taylor's head.

"My guess would be near 6-A." He grinned and pointed up at the sign. I rolled my eyes.

"I can see that, thanks." With a laugh, I got a great idea. "Why don't we just follow the rest of the people from the plane?"

"That would work, except I don't see anyone that looks remotely familiar." Running his fingers through his hair, Taylor let out a sigh of frustration as he searched the terminals. "I guess they really did want to get away from us as quickly as possible."

"You're not going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Of course not."

"Damn.. All right, you asked for it." I glared at him. "I'm asking for directions."

"As if that's a threat?" Taylor looked blankly at me.

"Isn't it a 'guy thing' not to ask for help?" I explained. He laughed again and shook his head.

"Not this guy. With as much traveling as we used to do, you get very accustomed to asking for directions."

"Good." I grinned knowingly and pointed at a nearby information booth. "Then march your bony behind over there and ask already."

"Yea! We're finally here!" I cheered loudly when we reached our final destination. While the directions Taylor had gotten were perfect, I wasn't prepared for the twenty-five minute walk over here. It'd taken the utmost self-control not to stop at all the food stands along the way as well. I couldn't help but notice Canadians apparently shared my fondness for doughnuts - Tim Horton's seemed to have the longest lines, despite the fact it was nearly six p.m.

"I've never seen anyone so excited to see a baggage claim before, Babe." Taylor replied with a grin, reaching over and fluffing my hair. Why people like to do that so much I have no idea, but it drives me nuts. I flattened it back down the best I could and scowled at him, before asking,

"Think we'll find our bags ok?"

"I don't see why not." Taylor burst out laughing and pointed ahead of us. Following the direction of his index finger, I couldn't help but smile watching our two lonely suitcases circling around a turnstill.

"At least we know what happened to everyone else on the plane." I exclaimed, heading over to the moving path and waiting for my suitcase to pass by. "They got their asses outta here quick."

"We're just stuck on tourist-speed, which is slower than molasses in January, Maggie." Taylor explained, stepping up next to me.

"Well," I pointed out the obvious. "At least we know our bags got here with us."

"Very true."

"I think you want to get mine for me when it gets here." I noted as it rounded a corner and headed toward us.

"I dunno.. I can't see it, Babe." He replied sarcastically, pretending to scan the area. "There's a good chance I'll miss it and have to wait for the next time around."

"You'd better not!" I scolded him playfully. "We've spent way too much time in this airport already."

"God, what on earth did you pack in this thing, Maggie?" Taylor groaned as he gripped the handle of my suitcase and lifted it off the conveyor belt.

"Boulders."

"Feels like it." He set it on the ground and wiggled the life back into his fingers. "As long as it isn't five hundred pairs of shoes."

"Sweetie, you know how I feel about shoe shopping." I shuddered slightly at the thought. I clapped my hands together as Taylor's duffel bag bounced against the last corner and headed toward us.

"Which I have no problem with." He replied, grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Well, I'm glad I have your approval." I grabbed the handle on my suitcase and picked it up, straightening my shoulders as we exited the baggage claim. "Now where to?"

"Customs.. in other words, back to the terminals."

"What?" My suitcase clunked against the hard tiled floor as I dropped it. "All the way back there?"

"Just to 2-L." He assured me and started back in the direction we'd come. With a sigh, I picked up my suitcase again and hurried to keep up with him.

At least we can't complain we didn't get any exercise today.

"Oh, dear God," my jaw dropped at the site in front of me.

"Hmm.. we're going to be here awhile," Taylor sighed, shifting his weight underneathe his suitcase. There had to be hundreds of people with baggage in tow straggled in thirteen lines ahead of us, each leading up to a Canadian official sitting behind a plastic shield that somewhat resembled an all-you-can-eat buffet sneeze guard. A large electronic message board announced "Welcome to Canada" above "Bienvenue au Canada" surrounded by red letters and small flags with the famous maple leaf waving.

"Well, let's pick one. You know the rule, right?" Taylor's face offered a knowing smile.

"Rule?" I shook my head, frowning at him.

"Yup," he smilled. "When it comes to customs lines, as a well-established traveler like myself, you pick the line with the dude."

"Why's that, oh well-established travelor?"

"I dunno. Women are just slower," he shrugged. "That's the rule. I didn't make it up, just follow it."

"All right, guy's line then," I peered ahead at the Customs officials, catching sight of Number Seven's not-too shabby looking face with bright blue eyes atop broad-shoulders.

"Don't even think about it," Taylor followed my gaze.

"Not Lucky Seven?" I giggled. "You don't trust me to charm our way into the country?"

"With your charm, they'd never let us back." Taylor shot back. "Number four."

"Four?" I squinted at the nearly-eighty year old slumped over in his seat, not sure that was a good basis of being faster.

"Four," Taylor repeated firmly, heading to what fortunately appeared to be the shortest line.

"Four it is," I sighed, dragging my suitcase behind me.

"Ok.." Zac heaved a huge sigh and reached for the phone again. This was harder than he'd originally thought it'd be, but one of Zac's pride and joy was his determination. Watching my tape three times since Taylor and I'd left added any reinforcement that might've been missing.

"Hello." A flat voice answered the phone. It resembled a female's.

"Is.. Alex there please?" Zac cleared his throat.

"What? Stop coughing into the phone so I can hear you." Well, it was definitely a female voice, and a particularly irritible sounding one too. Zac tried again, emphatically asking,

"Is Alex there please?"

"This is Alex. What do you want?"

"Oh, hi!" He stammered. "This is Zac."

"..."

"Zac Hanson.." He added, confused at her silence. "I'm Taylor's bro-"

"I know who you are," she cut him off crossly. "What do you want?"

"The pleasure of your company for dinner next weekend." Zac inwardly applauded his forcefulness. That should impress her.

"Well, forget it, Loser."

Woah, obviously not! He thought frantically

"Did.. Maggie talk to you about me?" Zac asked tentatively.

Maybe she bailed before heading up north.. if that's the case Ms. Olsen is toast.

"Yeah," was all Alex would produce of a reply. Frowning, Zac began to wonder what exactly I'd said to produce such a negative reaction. Hearing his hesitation, Alex added,

"Don't bruise your ego, she talked you up sweetly, but I'm not interested. Sorry." Her voice hindering on the suggestion that she was hanging up the phone, so Zac grasped at straws:

"Wait! Don't hang up yet." He pleaded, hoping to stall until he could think of something relatively intelligent or witty to change her obviously negative opinion of him. Not hearing a dial tone buzzing in his ear, Zac guessed she was still listening and said in a soft voice,

"I saw the scene you did with Maggie and I'm sure you already know this, but you're an incredible actress. I was floored when I saw the tears fall down your face, it seemed so real. It was touching.. honestly."

"I.. Just.. wanted to let you know that." Crossing his fingers, he hoped it'd be enough.

"You're right, I already knew that." She said wryly, but surprised him after a few seconds of silence with,

"How do you feel about drag racing?"

Apparently it was, Zac grinned to himself.

"I just can't get over how.. clean it is around here," my voice murmured softly as I stared awestruck out the tiny window near me. Taylor and I were wedged, quite tightly I'll add, into the back of his Aunt's pickup truck. It was quite a miracle that we were finally here, as Grampa Customs took fifteen minutes to process our records. Both Taylor and I were relieved to see Taylor's Aunt a few minutes later.

"It's beautiful." An endless stream of evergreens and pine trees whizzed by me as I continued my impression of a nature lover. And the sky seemed enormous - so large and open it almost pressed down on us. While Tulsa as a city can't compare to one like New York, something about the complete lack of concrete other than the open road ahead of us certainly was different. Quite calming. One might even guess it'd help remove the stick from my ass.. well, partially. This is me I'm talking about here.

"Sure different from your American cities, eh?" Taylor's Aunt - Claire I believe, craned her neck to call over her shoulder.

They really say 'eh' up here. I nearly burst out laughing. Instead I nodded at her, though I'm not sure why because it was directed at the back of her head. Obviously Claire was prepared for the weather, with a thick jean coat lined with fleece covering a flannel shirt with a large plaid pattern. Her straight brown hair lay gathered in a loose bun behind her head and she wore no makeup. But her cheery disposition, including what must be an infinite amount of patience after waiting so long for me and Taylor and hospitality for letting us stay with her while up here (although I'd be willing to bet Taylor's parents had a hand in that deal), made her an angel.

"Yeah," I blurted out suddenly, realizing I hadn't replied to her. "You'll have to forgive us if we're out of place."

"Well," Claire mused. "You do have funny accents."

"Well, we're such big city folks, Mags." Taylor snickered at me. I narrowed my eyes on the pager clipped over one of his belt loops, text messenger, and cell phone over others.

"Point made," he sheepishly glanced down at what I was looking at and laughed.

"Just turn them off for a weekend, ok?" As if he'd ever abandon any of his 'little toys.' I swear, half the time he used it was to page Ike or Zac on their cells and pagers because it was 'really neat.'

Men.

"Not a chance." Did I know Taylor or what? He smiled and patted his waist. "I might get an important call."

"Well, not one from your brother."

"Other people call me," he insisted. I glanced at him doubtfully.

"Like who?"

"Like.." he thought for a minute. "Well, you never do."

"Oh, you so did not say that," I wanted to choke him for trying to lay on a guilt trip. "That's not what I asked!"

"Well, that's what you're got." Taylor replied indignantly.

"Well," I mocked him. "Then I want a refund."

"Are you two engaged?" Claire interrupted our childish banter with an amused smile. Taylor and I stared at her silently for a few seconds, before I sent him a look that said, 'She's your relative. You answer.'

"No we're not, Aunt Claire." He replied as lightly as possible.

"Only a joke there Taylor," she assured him. "You're stiffer than a deer in headlights. Relax a little."

"Oh, a joke, hehe," I forced a laugh. "We're too young to get married."

"And too young for any external affairs," Since Claire's voice bordered stern, I honestly wasn't sure if she was kidding or not. Glancing at Taylor, it was obvious he didn't have a clue either. That deserved another prodding look from me.

"Umm.. what do you mean?" he asked tentatively.

"Separate rooms tonight for the two of ya," was all she replied. Not wanting to push the subject any further, I chose to do my best Venus fly trap impression and let my mouth hang open for a few seconds. Taylor looked less than amused as we rode the rest of the trip in an uncomfortable silence. I couldn't help but wonder if the cross look on his face implied something more than I knew about this trip.

Finally shutting my mouth, I directed my eyes back toward the passing scenery, and released a soft, settling sigh. Despite the circumstances of us being here, maybe a vacation was needed. Not a honeymoon like Taylor's parents and obviously now the rest of his extended family suspected, but it'd be nice not to have stress be the dominant factor in my life. Just for a weekend, at least. What a novel concept.