"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. I regret to announce that due to a mechanical problem we will be landing in Ottawa, Canada in approximately 15 minutes."
Fuck.
"A second plane will be available in about an hour. Please speak to an American Airlines representative at the airport if you have any concerns. We apologize for the inconvenience."
Nick Carter groaned. He hated flying. He hated flying and now there was a problem and somebody expected him to get on a *second* plane? Assuming, of course, the "mechanical problem" didn't blow him up before they arrived in Ottawa, why in *hell* would he want to get on a *second* plane?
To get home, genius?
He didn't actually have to be home yet. He wasn't needed for nearly a week. Maybe this was some kind of sign from God. "Nick Carter, it is not yet your time." Or maybe it *was* his time and the plane was going to crash and this was warning so he can repent.
Okay then, God. I repent. I repent ever having met her. I repent getting back together with her every time I'm lonely. However I do *not* repent blowing up and leaving her in England. That was kind of fun. Yeah, that was probably in the good deeds category. The Suck it Up and Grow Up category.
The seatbelt light dinged on and Nick fastened his seatbelt tightly, all happy, sarcastic thoughts gone from his mind until the plane had landed safely and he was standing on solid ground once more. He swung his backpack onto his back and headed for the American Airlines desk.
"Mr Carter!" The attendant smiled broadly. "How can I help you today?"
Being famous wasn't all bad, he admitted to himself grudgingly. "Um, I was actually wondering if I could get my flight changed."
"Ah, you were on the 6 am from Heathrow? I'll see what the next flight to Orlando is..."
"No, not the *next* flight. I was thinking somewhere around... um.. what day is it?"
"It's Friday, August 27 and local time is now 7:15 am." Nick was tired and a little edgy from the flight but he recognized a stewardess imitation when he heard one and managed a smile.
"Jet lag," he explained with a shrug, although that wasn't everything. "Um... Monday or Tuesday afternoon?"
"First class?"
"Uh huh." It wasn't a fame thing, it was a sanity thing. If he was going to die in the air, he was going to die comfortably, dammit. He could afford it.
"I have a 4 pm to Orlando on Monday afternoon?"
"Okay," he nodded. It would give him a few days. "Um.. what about my bags?" After years of traveling he had everything essential, including 2 changes of clothes in his backpack, but if he *could* get them...
"You won't be the only one looking for a second flight. They'll deplane the luggage on carousel D in a few minutes. I can't transfer the whole value of today's flight to your new booking, but everyone on your flight is getting a fifty dollar voucher. Shall I apply that to the new booking?"
"Sure." This was relatively painless. He could afford to lose a little money if it meant not having to get on a plane in an hour.
"All right then." The whir of a printer and he was good to go. "Good luck finding a hotel room."
"August is tourist season in Ottawa?" Nick asked incredulously.
"Every month is tourist season in Ottawa. But this weekend's the folk festival. It might be a little crowded, unless you stick to downtown."
Folk festival. *Music* festival. The wheels in Nick's head started touring as he made his way to the baggage carousel.
Large crowds. Without a bodyguard. Hundreds, thousands *millions* of people. Without a bodyguard. In Canada. Near Quebec. Without a bodyguard.
Music festival.
Without a bodyguard.
FOLK.
MUSIC.
FESTIVAL.
Maybe plane mechanical failures weren't such a bad thing after all.