the airport was a nominal post-bombing market. They sold everything from food and newspapers, which was reasonable, to various appliances, which was surprising.
And here's the best part, if you ask a vendor anything, he doesn't know anything. Not even where the nearest toilet is! Before asking him, you need to buy something to jog his memory, so to speak. Unfortunately, the prices in Domodedovo were as if only millionaires used the airport's services. But the airport staff could not be seen at a glance. Probably, they shyly dissolved among travelers hoping to join the group flying, say, to Kanye.
I had to get to the VIP lounge. That's where Andrew was waiting for me, holding my ticket, salary and work book.
The phone call came at the moment when I noticed the local guard and was about to catch up with him. I pulled out my phone and answered it without looking:
" I forgot to tell you exactly which hall I'll be waiting for you in."
I blinked, realizing belatedly that I had answered Andrew 's call. I should still look at the phone before answering in a disgruntled tone.
" Isn't he alone? " I was sincerely surprised.
VIP lounges are usually used either by business class passengers or participants of any programs, from the category – "fly a hundred times super economy class and get one VIP lounge dinner".
" Uh, uh… What floor are you on? " He asked me with a hesitation.
I was embarrassed, although, it would seem, how could I know about the number of VIP lounges in airports?
" The first."
" Great. From the main entrance, turn left, go straight, straight, straight, straight, straight until you see the sign. Can you handle it?"
" Of course," I replied, slightly perplexed.
Judging by his tone and the way he explained it, he had already joined the bar. However, it finally became clear to me where to go. The main thing was that I didn't have to turn anywhere, otherwise I would have gotten lost.
I got to the desired place quickly, but before the entrance to the hall there was a small hitch. I was blocked by a guard who asked me if I had a ticket. And the ticket had to be a business class ticket. In fact, I didn't have any.
" My boss has the ticket, I'm a secretary," I said cheerfully.
" Secretary? And the director of the company has the ticket? " The guard asked incredulously.
I sighed, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Usually it's just the opposite, the secretary has the tickets, passes, minty motion sickness pills and bags if the pills don't help. I had to pull out my phone and call Andrew , not to argue with the guard, proving that the tickets were ordered much earlier than I was employed!
" Are you Rina? " asked one of the waitresses and, after waiting for my confused "Yes", continued: " I'll show you to your table."
I exhaled with relief and smiled gratefully at the girl. Trying not to look at the confused guard, I followed her.
Andrew was sitting at a corner table, in front of him there was one glass and an almost finished bottle of whiskey. The man himself was already quite tipsy. I greeted him once more in surprise and sat down carefully.
" I hate flying," the boss confided.
I blinked in surprise, not expecting such a confession from a man. Everyone I'd known before had been desperately brave or angry, but they'd never admitted their weakness.
Andrew filled the glass. I managed to move forward and cover it with my hand, preventing him from drinking. A little more would definitely keep us off the plane. According to the rules, the crew has the right to deny boarding to people who are intoxicated or not only intoxicated, but also behaving inappropriately. And who's to say that a man who's just drinking doesn't throw a tantrum before the gangway? Or do the rules not apply to millionaires?
" No need to continue, we're about to board," I muttered.
Andrew suddenly nodded in agreement and moved the glass away from you. Encouraged, I called the waitress and ordered two coffees. In the remaining forty minutes you should try to put him in order.
For that, I'd have to feed him.
" What's our flight? " I asked.
Andrew slid an envelope to me. As I expected, the envelope contained our tickets, hotel reservations and, most pleasantly, the transfer. So, if he doesn't hold back and gets completely drunk on the plane, I won't have to worry about how to get him to the hotel.
" Anything else? " the waitress asked, setting our coffees down in front of us.
" If I could get something to eat, we would have less than forty minutes to board.
Of course, we should not expect the cook to cook a steak and we will be able to eat it in the remaining time. When time is limited, it's always better to ask the waitresses what is available in the kitchen."
" Maybe there are some preferences? " Still, the girl clarified.
I shook my head negatively and assured her that I didn't. I don't suffer from any food allergies, and I don't count calories.
The girl smiled faintly with only the corner of her lips. Most likely, she does not meet such visitors often, who do not demand to fry a piglet in five minutes, and only fresh and do not torture about the exact number of calories in each piece.
Andrew had been sipping his coffee gloomily all this time. If I had known about his problem in advance, I would have bought a light sleeping pill and intercepted it before he could drink it. Of course, there's a pharmacy around here somewhere. Except sleeping pills don't mix well with alcohol, you could end up like Merlin Monroe!
Nevertheless, I was in the best mood I'd ever been in. This trip is going to be exciting. I'll attend a conference, expand my knowledge. Besides, I might be able to visit a couple of interesting places in St. Petersburg itself.
Business class finally made me feel like a queen. Before that, I had only flown in economy class, where you can only fold your legs over the ears of the passenger in front of you. But here you have space, a blanket and champagne. And I did not have to ask or demand anything. It was as if the staff could read minds and guess whom to serve what.
At the airport we were met by a decent car, not a minibus. Mr. Roberts , who slept the whole flight and sobered up, managed to get to it by himself. So we didn't have to drag anyone, which only added points to the already high mood.
So, having checked in without any problems, I took the conference program from the reception, registered Andrew as a participant and myself as a secretary, and with a sense of accomplishment went to my room.
The organizers chose a decent hotel. The room was made in a pleasant blue color, which the owner of the hotel killed two birds with one stone – it was not too bright and looked decent. After taking a shower, I realized that I didn't want to sleep at all, as well as to sit in the room.
Life had suddenly taken an unexpected turn. A month ago I was a simple English tutor. A month later, I was a woman who'd been dumped.
And now… I wanted to open the window and shout all over Peter how happy I was.
I didn't shout out the
