Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Alphabet Soup - Q

I expected alot of things on my return from Cancun, Mexico. I expected regret that my vacation was over, perhaps a little discomfort from the sunburn I got when I fell asleep on the beach. I expected the usual stack of mail and phone calls that needed to be returned. What I didn't expect was to be quarantined.

A slight cough and a runny nose was all it took for me to be pulled out of line at the airport and escorted to a waiting room. The recent swine flu outbreak had everybody jumpy and they weren't taking any chances. I'm a reasonable person. I understood. I was a potential health menace and I needed to be dealt with.

I felt kind of dirty. I mean - I needed to be separated from decent folk. Like to be in my presence was to risk your life.

Another vacation ruined.

My previous vacation was to London when the subway stationed was bombed. The whole city shut down. No theatre. No museums. No live music. Nothing. Nada. So I sat in my B&B and waited for the airport to reopen so I could fly home.

Perhaps this is a sign. Perhaps I am not meant to travel. Perhaps I am better off staying home. A staycation. Maybe that's what I need.

I spent my time in quarantine reading the same book that I had brought to Mexico to read on the beach. It was a perfect beach book. A story of romance and intrigue on the high seas that was taylor made for a sandy, sunny vacation. As a quarantine book it was a miserable failure.

The food was terrible. The cot was torturous. The time ticked by minute by interminable minute until it became obvious that I wasn't a walking bio hazard and I could go home.

I arrived at home to my mail, my job and my phone messages. My dog was glad to see me. I went back to work and regaled everyone with tales from my time in quarantine.

Deadlines came and went. Bills were paid. Obligations met and soon my time in Mexico and my sentence in quarantine seemed very far away.

Damn.

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