Sometimes mere choices can rule your life and change the entirety of what future lies before you.

Choice number one : I forgot to set my alarm clock on Thursday night.

Choice number two : I downed a whole bottle of mineral water than followed up with two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice courtesy of Nancy.

Choice number three : I wore nine inch stilettos that I had no hope of running in.

Choice number four : I slept really late last night from the excitement of today and currently resembled a raccoon.

What you may ask was the result of this choices?

I got up late, got ready late and my flight to NYC was leaving in T-Minus two hours. And living fourty five minutes from LAX didn't help at all.

I reached the airport thirty minutes before my flight took off and dawdled towards the waiting area. My shoes were not made for running you see.

Given my fatigue ridden body, I headed for the first cafe I saw and bought an expresso, just as they announced my flight was boarding.

Ten minutes later, sitting in the economy class, I felt the effects of drinking water, orange juice and coffee all in the span of one and half hours.

Just as I was about to head for the toilet, the captain announced that we were about to take off.

Thank you!

And as my luck may have it, when were at cruising altitude, the toilet was occupied.

A little word of advice people. Never even think of drinking any form of liquid unless you know your bladder can handle it. Never.

And as my lack of luck may have it, my bladder can not handle it.

With some endurance on my part, I pushed the button that alerted the flight attendants to my need.

A redhead finally came after two mins and four seconds of torture.

" Do you need help, miss?" She asked with a smile.

I nodded. Duh! I pressed the button! "I need to use the toilet, you see," I whispered softly, hoping no one heard me.

"The toilet's back there miss. Do you need me to direct you to it?" She looked slightly annoyed.

"It's currently full right now," I stated the obvious.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait your turn then miss."

"No. I can't hold it anymore!" I snapped. "I've been holding it for the past fifteen minutes and once the flipping thing frees up, another person is in there!"

"That's unfortunate miss. But there is the one toilet," she smiled again, this time it looked snarky.

"I know there is the one toilet and it seems like the person in there isn't going to be done anytime soon. But I can't hold it anymore! Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I understand miss but there's really nothing I can do."

"Yes there is. There's the one up front." I was desperate enough to ask to use the business class toilet.

What can I say? When you gotta go, you gotta go.

She looked shocked. "I'm sorry miss, but that is out of the question."

I snapped as the bladder felt like bursting.

"Do you know what happens if I don't go now?" My voice echoes in the cabin. "I will be needing surgery! Surgery! And after that surgery do you know what will happen? I will be suing this company for damages and you personally." I wasn't gonna do that. "Now either let me use it or you're out of a job."

"Okay," she said as she glared at me. "Follow me."

I got up, bending over slightly as I tried to hold it in for a bit more time.

She opened the partition between the economy and business class and directed me to the toilet. Even the toilet was high class.

Marble seating, gold rimming, more spacious, luxurious hand wash, mint. Heck, even the toilet was feather light and soft.

After relieving myself and feeling like my bladder can last a couple more years, I washed my hand.

How can hand wash feel so luxurious?

As soon as I walked out of the toilet, I smiled at the glaring flight attendant.

"Thanks!"

Just then I heard something splash.

The flight attendant ignored me as she pushed lashed and went into the business class.

There on seat 3-4, a female flight attendant stood, her shoulders slumped as water dripped down her now wet face and soaked her uniform.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" A deep voice snapped, his tone angry.

The girl nodded slowly.

"Then why am I dealing with this sort of stupidity?"

The girl looked on the verge of tears.

The redhead that had served me stood two feet away, cautious and debating whether to get involved.

I pitied them. I couldn't even see the man from my standpoint, but he sounded like an arrogant, spoilt, old hoot.

"I expect the best and you're giving me dogfood," he said as he shoved a plate of veal steak onto the girl. "Go tell the pilot to turn the plane around. I don't feel like flying right now."

"I beg your pardon sir. What was that?" The redhead now intervened, asking him.

"Tell the pilot to turn the plan around now!"

"I think that would be impossible sir."

"We just left LAX thirty minutes ago, it is still possible. Tell him to turn the plane around."

"But sir..."

If we turned the plane around, it would take another five hours til I reach New York. It was now ten fifteen. The final process was at three.

Being even a minute late was an instant fail.

Shit!

"No buts, now!" The man's voice hit me hard.

If this arrogant old hoot had his way, my one dream summer job would be out the window.

"Excuse me, if I may," I decided to intervene.

The redhead shook her head profusely at me to not do anything.

I ignored her and walked towards where he sat, slowly nodding at the poor girl to leave now.

As soon as I turned to see the arrogant jerk, I froze.

I was wrong.

He wasn't an old hoot.

He was an arrogant, spoilt Adonis hoot!

Shit!

I hated his type!

A walking photoshoot in person, dark waves expertly styled, a ten am shadow on his chiseled jawline and a tanned complexion. His tinted shades hid his eyes.

Who the hell wears shades inside a plane?

"And who are you to interfere?" He asked, arching a brow.

His tone made me feel less than dirt.

"A passenger. Just like you."

He scoffed. "You act like you do not know who I am." He smirked.

"Sorry, I didn't see a name tag, so no, I don't know who you are."

He looked at me skeptically, even with his shades on I knew he didn't believe me. "Look sweetheart, I suggest you just hurry on along back to the..." He appraised my appearance, not in a skivy way but more like he was assessing my value, "other end of the plane, while us on this side solve our problems."

"Other end?"

He nodded. "Since you're done using the toilet, I think you should go back."

I blushed in embarassmant in all shades of red. "Not unless I know you're not turning this plane around."

"Look, sweetheart, you shouldn't even be here, so go back."

"Who the hell are you calling sweetheart? As far as I know, this matter concerns me and all other passengers on this plane. What gives you the right to ask to turn the plane around? Everyone here has a schedule to meet and how special are you to ruin that?"

He smirked. "Seems like you really don't know who I am," he looked appalled at the thought as he got up and stood in my face, invading my space. "My right would be as the owner of this airline, or soon to be anyway. I guess that makes me preeeeetty... special. Don't you think?" He smirked.

My eyes widened.

Soon to be owner? Of this airline?

Still! I need this final process to work.

"Which means you should think of only yourself but your passengers."

He smirked.

"Fine," he said. "Let's make a deal."

"A deal?"

He nodded. "Tell me what you're rushing to New York for and I'll suffer through this flight."

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"I wanna know what's so important that someone's overstepping their boundaries for," he answered simply.

If it meant I can make it to the interview, so be it.

"I'm interning at Gloss magazine and the final processing is today."

He smirked. "Gloss magazine? You don't say."

Somehow he looked devious.

"So, I gather there isn't going to be a delay?" I asked.

He nodded. "Definitely none. Until we meet again, Ms..."

"Sanders. Krystal Sanders," I replied.

He nodded, his smile widening.

"The name's Douglas Burns," he replied. "It's best you remember that name."

Douglas Burns?

The name repeated itself as I walked back to my seat.

Something was not right.

I can feel it.