Bound for Glory - Year 1

Week 15//Part 1 - Europe Brings Scenery of Many Kinds, Part 1

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                                                                 April 20th, 2011

                  “The Last Day's Always the Best When You Can't the Person That's Leaving”

                                                                                         Plane ride to Sarajevo, WWE Jet, around . . . 1pm

As we neared our first stop in Europe, a verbal fight broke out on the plane a couple rows next to us. Everyone not involved groaned at the dysfunctional couple's unawareness of the people around them.

“Are Shelby and Drew yelling AGAIN?” I asked, turning to my boyfriend who was in the seat next to me, rubbing his temples intolerantly.

“Yep,” he sighed, turning to me as well. “I'm just waiting for the big BU.”

“BU?” I asked.

“Break up.”

“Ah, I see,” I nodded. “I just hope this ends cleanly so we don't need to postpone any fun in Europe due to a murder trial-slash-investigation.”

Alex let out a warm laugh and smiled. “I know we'll have fun. Or, at least I will, knowing that I have you to keep me company if not these losers.” he said, putting his arm around me and gesturing around the plane to the other Superstars and Divas.

“Well,” I laughed, putting my head on his chest. “we're almost there, so I think you'll need to make that decision soon.” I fiddled with the buttons on his shirt.

“I already have, my lo--” He was cut off by increased yelling from our favorite couple.

We both winced at the loud screams and I dug my head into his chest for comfort; I can't stand it when people scream like that at each other. He tightened his grip around me and kissed the top of my head.

“It's okay, Kath. They'll be done soon . . . I hope,” he said, taking a look back at them. I tutted and sighed.

“I hope so, Alex.”

For the next half-hour, I was asleep on Alex's chest; which wasn't hard, considering his VERY nice-smelling and comforting-in-a-weird-way cologne and the fact that his pecs were muscly and hot, but still soft enough to sleep on. I get called weird for taking catalog of these things by Mike and Alma . . . screw them, I like taking catalog of things.

“Wake up!” Alex yelled, practically throwing me out of the plane window by jolting his arm so I'd wake up. When I regained my composure I shot him a glare.

“Why?” I asked evilly.

"We're here!” he answered brightly.

I rolled my eyes and stood up, shaking off the massive leg cramp I had and getting my carry-on bag out of the compartment above-head. We all stepped out of the plane and took in a breath of fresh Bosnian air. Alma started talking to the locals in her native tongue as we walked through the lobby of our VERY classy hotel AND through the streets on our way to our VERY classy hotel, which, I must admit, is very annoying at times. Especially when you think she's calling you “Dirty Americans.”

“You know, it's kinda weird that they have Egyptian cotton sheets in Bosnia,” Maria said, doing very crude snow angels on the bed. “Don't you think that they should have Bosnian cotton sheets?”