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Left the airport

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andrew willow 2022-06-29 23:57:05 -05:00
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conference_connections.md
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@ -4,14 +4,28 @@ Author's Note: All characters in this story are 18 or over. Any resemblance to p
Natalie's first glimpse of Bridgetown came as the plane came about, beginning its descent. She had been stuck on the boring side of the plane until the sudden curve, and she pushed her glasses up her nose, interest piqued, as she watched the gleaming red-tiled roofs of the Caribbean city grow, first a field of tiny red specks, then a doll's city, complete with miniature trucks sputtering along narrow roadways, and finally full-size houses that the plane seemed to narrowly miss in its landing.
With the final jolt, though, the tarmac of the airport seemed to swallow her up and she allowed the window next to her first-class seat to shut as the Captain barked instructions and people began to rise around her. The plane taxied towards a smallish building, and Natalie finally rose to pack her things. She hadn't quite finished the last notes on the presentation she was here to give, but it was still on track to be finished in time. To be honest, it had been too easy to procrastinate on this talk, and she hadn't been able to use much old material. Instead, it was supposed to be all-new research results, some of the most groundbreaking material to come out of her lab in a decade of running it, which made it an imposing task to begin. Event he venue had contributed; it was unusual for a neurobiology conference to be held here in Barbados, and the flight from Chicago had been long, but when someone like Dr. Adaline specifically asked for you to present your work, you didn't think twice about it. Of course, getting an all-expenses-paid ticket to a resort on the Caribbean coast didn't hurt either.
With the final jolt, though, the tarmac of the airport seemed to swallow her up and she allowed the window next to her first-class seat to shut as the Captain barked instructions and people began to rise around her. The plane taxied towards a smallish building, and Natalie finally rose to pack her things. She hadn't quite finished the last notes on the presentation she was here to give, but it was still on track to be finished in time. To be honest, it had been too easy to procrastinate on this talk, and she hadn't been able to use much old material. Instead, it was supposed to be all-new research results, some of the most groundbreaking material to come out of her lab in a decade of running it, which made it an imposing task to begin. Even the venue had contributed; it was unusual for a neurobiology conference to be held here in Barbados, and the flight from Chicago had been long, but when someone like Dr. Adaline specifically asked for you to present your work, you didn't think twice about it. Of course, getting an all-expenses-paid ticket to a resort on the Caribbean coast didn't hurt either.
As the others on the plane began to file out past her, heading out onto a creaky-looking ramp, Natalie stuffed her laptop, her notecards, and the embossed invite to the conference into her well-built leather carry-on luggage. At least she'd made some real progress finally on those last few slides. She wanted to really knock the socks off the slim guest list; all of the most famous and influential experts in a huge list of neuroscience-related fields would be here to see Dr. Adaline off. She was retiring from research finally at 80, and since she'd practically founded whole sections of the discipline, everyone who was anyone would be traveling here to celebrate her many achievements. Which meant Natalie had to do a good job; there just wasn't any other option. There were too many people paying too close attention here.
Her work packed up, she stood and walked out onto the platform they'd pulled up next to the plane, and let the breezy Caribbean air caress her. Her shoulder-length brown hair flicked lazily, and she could taste the slightest ocean tang as she inhaled deeply. On a day like this, you could forget that Chicago even existed. The sun was a spotlight, glinting off her glasses frames, and she felt its glowing gaze on her freckled shoulders as she marched with intention down the ramp in her sneakers.
Her work packed up, she stood and walked out onto the platform they'd pulled up next to the plane, and let the breezy Caribbean air caress her. Her shoulder-length brown hair flicked lazily, and she could taste the slightest ocean tang as she inhaled deeply. On a day like this, you could forget that Chicago even existed. The sun was a spotlight on her as she marched with intention down the ramp in her white sneakers, the airy floral sundress she wore billowing behind her. There would be time for prep and worry about the presentation later, she told herself. Instead, during the brief ride to the airport building, she chatted with the driver, an older dark-skinned man with a bushy brush-shaped mustache that quavered while he chatted eagerly about the beautiful weather and the low tourist turnout.
"You must go to Lushington beach! It is no quick trip but, you will not regret it. No one goes there this time of year. Except now, you! Beautiful for sunrises. Mix plenty of drinks for yourself the night before, and you will be happy all day. Just you and the sand and the waves!" He gesticulated with excitement towards the sky. "Usually, we have tropical storms around now. But you slipped right between them. In a week, it will be grey skies, everyday. But this week only is perfect."
Customs flew by and before long Natalie was waiting for an Uber to the resort with her luggage. The conference had fully booked one of the largest resorts on the island, a luxurious villa that abutted the ocean on the outskirts of the capitol.
, glinting off her glasses frames, and she felt its glowing gaze on her freckled shoulders as she marched with intention down the ramp in her sneakers.
*Should have put on sunscreen at the Chicago airport,* she thought with chagrin as she climbed aboard the shuttle that would take her to the airport and customs. *Who knows how long I'll be waiting outside to head to the resort.*
In the end, though, she passed through customs and the
# Structure