Читать книгу I Hate Walt - Vicki Andree - Страница 15

The empty baggage claim area echoed. Mary Lou stared at the conveyor belt moving past her. Her late flight had come in even later than expected. She spotted her bag and lifted it off the carousel. Ugh! How could this thing get heavier? I certainly didn’t buy any souvenirs. That four-hour layover in Seattle didn’t help. Now if I can just get to my car. Hope the shuttle is still running. It is nearly midnight. This nightmare is almost over.

She rolled her bag out door number five thirteen and shuffled to the third aisle to wait for the USAirport Parking shuttle. Oh, it is so cold. I think it’s colder here than in Alaska. How can that be? She threw her arms around herself to hug her body. She remembered her parking ticket and called the number on it.

“USAirport Parking.”

Mary Lou could see her breath as she talked into her cell. “I’m waiting for the shuttle. Can you tell me how much longer? Are you still coming? It’s cold out here.”

“Oh, yes. Ten minutes.”

Mary Lou wanted to scream that ten minutes was a long time when she was standing outside but restrained herself. “Thank you.”

Twelve minutes and thirteen seconds later, she saw the shuttle round the corner at the end of the terminal. It lumbered toward her at glacial speed. As far as she could see, she was the only person outside the terminal. Really? You couldn’t move any faster? It must be ten below out here.

Finally, it stopped in front of her. The door swung open, and the warm air embraced her as she entered. She handed her parking slip to the driver so he could find her car in the sea of snow-covered automobiles at USAirport Parking. He closed the doors, and she collapsed in a seat, closing her eyes and cursing Walt Pederson.