10,022 words and OMGGGGGGGG I had fun writing today!

So, the plot is slowly advancing, but I admit most of my word count today was completely frivolous. First, I wasted a whole lot of words describing outfits:

Annalise and Ethan emerged from Newark airport to a wall of damp, fuglike humidity that immediately added 30% more frizz to both of their hair and 40% more sweat to their already travel sweat dampened clothes. Annalise had chosen to go with a comfortable yet elegant navy jumper, smartly paired with a denim jacket and a pair of nude leather flats. At least it had been a smart pairing in the spring chill of Toronto. Here, it was less so, and she quickly removed the denim jacket and began searching for their car service driver. Still, she was glad she had opted out of wearing the lightweight caramel leather jacket- it would have been hell in this humidity, and she was travelling to Jersey, after all, reportedly the birthplace of the beer throwing contest. She had done the math, and the jacket had stayed safely stowed in her closet at home.

In her research for the trip, she had learned that Newark airport had been repeatedly voted the worst airport in the world, and having taken in the long, slow-moving security lines, the spotty wifi reception, and the complete lack of suitable coffee options, she could see why. Their own trip from Pearson had been ominously trouble-free, but Annalise was certain this meant their return trip would be dumpster fire. Well… she wouldn’t worry about that now, it was days away. Still, her nerves jangled as the crowd jostled around her.

She looked over at Ethan, standing several paces behind her, and noted that he either looked half asleep, or was expressing the exact right amount of adolescent ennui, depending on your perspective. When he had emerged from his room that morning, shower fresh and dragging his roller suitcase behind him, she had squealed with delight.

“You look just like Cody Simpson,” she had gushed, taking in his stylish jorts, graphic t, and faded red hoodie.

“Who?” he had asked, youthful contempt curling his upper lip.

“Don’t start with me,” she had responded, using one of her classic retorts, and promising herself that he would pay for his churlishness with no fewer than 5 repeats of the 2010 monster hit, Iy-Iy-Iy, on the drive to Pearson.

Then, I swear I spent about 1,000 words having the characters complain about wifi reception at the hotel, culminating in this interaction between Annalise and the hotel front desk clerk, Brandon. I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

“It’s working for me,” he said, annoyingly. Annalise sighed.

“Well, of course it’s working for you, you’re using the password protected staff wifi.” She couldn’t even believe she was having this conversation. After 20 more minutes of back and forth, they were no further ahead, and Annalise had reached the limits of her patience. When Brandon snatched her phone from her hands and attempted to explain to her how to connect to wifi, she launched into a rehearsed but extremely effective mini lecture on sexist bias, to no avail. Brandon apparently had adopted gaslighting as his customer service strategy, and she was getting nowhere. He had even been unmoved by her mention of 120 PhD educated professors who would be descending on the hotel within the next 12 hours- and annoyed as she was, she had to respect his intestinal fortitude. The thought of 120 university professors together in any location was generally enough to send a chill of fear down the spine of even the most courageous of hotel clerks. Annalise had one card left to play, and she threw caution to the wind as she laid it down.

She turned toward her son, who was lurking creepily behind her right shoulder, and she nodded. He stepped forward.

“This,” she said, “is a fifteen year old boy. Do you understand what that means?” she asked, gesturing toward Ethan. Brandon looked unimpressed.

“Surely he can just use his data plan,” he retorted.

“Oh, he can, can he?” Annalise replied acidly. “What if I were to tell you we are from Canada?” she continued, picking up steam. Most Americans knew next to nothing about Canada, but one fact that seemed to have penetrated the cultural consciousness of Americans everywhere was the horrific nature of mobile phone plans in the otherwise supposedly benign and friendly neighbouring country. Brandon’s jaw dropped as she delivered the coup de grace. “On his Roam Everywhere Plan he gets 100 megabytes of data per day,” she said, letting the words fall like deflated balloons. Brandon looked desperate.

Ha! She thought, inwardly congratulating herself. Another successful interaction with a man.

Annalise’s moment of triumph was interrupted as a shadowy door behind Brandon burst open, and a handsome, well-dressed, very fit-looking man emerged. Even without his signature grin and boatload of charisma, he would have been easily recognizable to any hockey fan with functioning sensory organs. Now it was her turn for her jaw to drop. She turned to look at Ethan and noted that he looked equally gobsmacked.

“P.K. Subban?” he asked breathily, barely getting the words out. “What are you doing here?” he asked, quite sensibly.

“I hear you’re having some trouble with the wifi?” the defensive superstar responded, his 1000 megawatt smile lighting up the dim lobby and lifting the hearts of all humans within its extensive range.