“No,” Manny said, sitting on the bed with his arms folded, “No way I’m flying. It’s only to Boise, can’t we just save some money and drove there? I’ll bet it’s quicker than go through customs and bag check.”
“What do you have against flying?” I said exasperatedly, placing my neatly folded top into the suitcase.
Manny shivered, “You don’t wanna know.” Then he sighed and threw his hands up, “Fine. It was when I was thirteen. It was my aunt Judy’s turn to host the annual family Christmas party. Dad booked the flight for the 24th. Any idiot would know better than to fly on Christmas Eve.” He spat the last sentence. “The airport was packed when we arrived and because we were so busy packing that morning, I never got the chance to use the restroom.” He shook his head. “Anyway, there I was, trying to make my way through the crowd with my backpack, suitcase, and a full bladder.”
“Hey, don’t laugh.” Manny chided.
“So that’s your reason? You had one bad experience, Manny. Suck it up. Give flying another chance.” I nudged. “Because otherwise, we’re not going at all.”
A Response for Sunday Photo Fiction.