“Attention flyers!” yelled Quantico through the intercom, “we are about to land in London, please wake up and prepare to disembark the plane while your luggage will be carried through to the next one.” Patel groggily woke up and looked out his window. He saw a small airport below them.
“Thanks for flying with us,” said Hill, “you fellas and gals have a nice and safe time.” The pilots then signed off and the crackle rang throughout the cabin.
“Finally!” yelled Cannon, “this plane was getting boring real quick.”
“It’s not over yet,” said Patel walking up to his seat. He was trying to wake his body up as it still was only 4 in the morning. “We still have to wait an hour before we can get on the plane to Amsterdam.”
“An hour layover?” asked Sticky. “That’s pretty lame. What can we do with an hour?”
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to munch,” said Spike. “I’m hungry as fuck!”
As the plane landed, they all braced for impact. Unfortunately, nothing really special, other than landing, happened and they all moaned in disappointment. After the plane connected the jet bridge to the airport, the passengers all filed out of the plane. Since first class had it’s own jet bridge, no one was lost in the chaos.
“All right homeboys, we have in an hour,” said Wahlburn. “What are we going to do?”
“Let’s go to the cafeteria and eat some breakfast?” asked Spike.
Tyrone turned towards him. “Shieeeet, man. I’m witchu.” Soon, Tyrone with Spike on his back and Poncho ran over to the cafeteria for food.
“I guess that’s where we are going,” said Patel. They all found a table and scattered around the cafeteria floor, finding different foods to eat. Once everyone was content, they sat down at the table.
“Anyone know what we can do in a London airport at 4 in the morning?” mumbled Cannon as he stuffed his face with pancakes.
“Wimbledon isn’t that far away. Anyone wanna play some tennis?” joked Clyde.
“Tennis,” chuckled Rivs, “what a laugh.”
“Yeah man, it’s all about Fútbol.” Patel smiled while the others looked at him expressionless. “You guys are so fucking mad right now.”
“Yeah, el Fútbol!” yelled Fluffy. “It’s only the best deporte!” Fluffy and Patel gave a hoofbump.
“Both of you get the fuck out of here,” said Wahlburn, pointing to the main airport entrance. The bickering between them continued a bit longer until Poncho spoke up.
“Hey, Jeb, are you going to drink your juice?”
Jeb and the others looked over to see Poncho with an empty plane. “What the hell man, didn’t you have like four glasses?” asked Jeb.
“Whaaaaaat?” Poncho looked away quickly then back to Jeb. “I was only asking if I could have it since you aren’t drinking it.”
“No,”said Jeb as he quickly drank his juice while looking cautiously at Poncho.
“Alright dawgs. I say we jump aboard the new plane now. We ain’t got that much time.” Tyrone quickly threw his trash away.
“What the hell is your problem?” asked Wahlburn.
“Me? Shit, nothing man. I just want to keep my back corner seat. And, maybe to check if we got another fine assed flight attendant too.” Tyrone smirked and laughed.
“Tyrone, what did we tell you before we got on the plane. Don’t try shit like that or soon, Junior will have other Juniors he won’t even meet.”
“I know dawg. I can’t help myself sometimes.”
“It’s cool,” said Wahlburn, patting him on the shoulder, “it happens to the best of us.”
“Speaking of Junior, I wonder how that lil’ bastard is doing.” Tyrone pulled out his phone and dialed BC’s number. After a few rings, the voicemail kicked in. “Ay, shit. I guess they are sleeping still.”
“Yeah dude,” said Cannon. “It’s only 4 in the morning.”
“Actually, it would be 11 at night over there,” said Jeb correcting him.
“Shut the fuck up Jeb.”
The group threw away the trash from their food and made their way to the second plane boarding gate. Once they could board, they followed the same procedures as the first plane and sat in the same assigned seats. After the passengers were all seated, the intercom crackled on.
“Hello. This is your captain speaking and welcome to: Flying with Captain Baxter. Now before you ask, I’m not Quantico, but his relative, Korico. I don’t do that stupid stereotypical “pilot pause” like him because I’m a much more talented pilot. Anyways, this flight should only take uh, FUCK!” The intercom shut off and the group was confused on what happened. After a few seconds the loud crackle turned back on. “Sorry about that, the flight should only take a hour or so. Enjoy the flight.”
“An hour?” complained Sticky, “what the hell is the point of doing anything if we are only going to be on here for an hour?”
“Watch basketball, you chinky!” yelled Patel from across the room.
The group followed Patel’s plan and watched a random program to their choosing. Around 50 minutes after departure, Korico came back onto the intercom.
“We are ahead of schedule and landing in two minutes. Remember to get your bags once before you leave the airport and enjoy this blasted city.”
Just like Korico stated, after two minutes, the plane began its descent. Once everything was a go, all the passengers filed out of the plane, into the jet bridge, and into the gate lobby. Jeb made it out first and waited for the others.
“Get the fuck outta my way!” yelled Wahlburn, pushing through the crowds towards Jeb. “Damn, I can’t even move.”
“Did you see the others?” asked Jeb.
“Yeah, they are still in there.” Wahlburn looked back at the hysterical horde. “May JC be with them.”
Soon, Rivs and Sticky were pushed out of the mob towards them. “Damnit! I didn’t catch the score of the game!” Rivs frowned and crossed his arms, remaining on the ground sitting.
“Is there a damn game on everyday?” asked Wahlburn. “That’s fucking stupid.”
“What?” said Sticky in shock, “it’s the non-conference schedule season right now. It’s very important.”
Wahlburn began a hateful frown. “Does it look like I give a fuck?” Sticky and Rivs shook their head. “Exactly.”
Within the next two minutes, the rest of the group broke away from the crowd and joined the others in the lobby. They talked for awhile and looked around trying to read the different signs pointing to different areas of the airport.
“Can anyone read French?” asked Spike.
“French? What the fuck are you smoking? Actually, nevermind, I know exactly what you’re smoking,” retorted Patel. “That’s Dutch.”
“Oh.” Spike sadly. “Didn’t have to be a dick about it...”
“Enough chitter chatter,” said Tyrone, “We gotsta get our shit back from the airport staff.” They all agreed and went west, or whatever direction they were at, to the baggage claim. They all waited patiently in line until their luggage came through the carousel. After a few minutes, Patel’s bags came through.
“Ha! Fuck you guys.” As he picked his luggage up, Fluffy’s bag came through too. Soon, everyone’s but Tyrone’s and Poncho’s luggage came through.
“What da hell?” said Tyrone about his bag. “Where the goddamn hell is it?” As Tyrone finished his sentence, a young colt rolled out of the flap holding on to Tyrone’s luggage.
“Dad!” said Junior happily, hugging the luggage.
Tyrone stood there confused. “Junior? What the hell!”
“What?”
“What the hell are you doing here? And get off Greg dammit!” A faint “ruff” emitted from the luggage. Tyrone picked up Greg the luggage and strapped it to his back.
Junior hopped down from the carousel and looked up at Tyrone. “Dad, I snuck on the plane so I could come with you!”
“Junior, I told ya I didn’t want you to come.” Tyrone looked around and saw that his friends were laughing at him. Tyrone grabbed Junior and set him on his back and began to walk towards the group. “Let’s go, we’ll talk later.”
Poncho watched as Tyrone and his son departed towards the others, leaving him alone. His bag has yet to come and he was getting hungry as all his food was in his luggage. After a few seconds, Poncho’s luggage, along with another, came rolling out of the flap. Poncho hurried over to retrieve it, but the other bag was tangled up with his.
“Gosh darn golly gee whiz,” said Poncho, trying to rip apart the tangled bags. After wrestling with them some more, he finally separated them.
“Excuse me, but I think you have my bag.” A light teal pony, around the same age as Poncho and the others, walked up to him. Poncho saw that this teal pony, with her dark tealish eyes, looking right at him. She had a pink mane, with a single bright white highlight in it. Her cutie mark was a white and pink lotus flower.
“Oh!” yelled Poncho, awkwardly. “Sorry, about that, it’s just that it kinda got caught with mine and I tried to separate them. That’s why I’m still holding on to yours. It’s not like I want to keep yours, it’s just, I still have it because I’ve yet find its owner, but since you’re here, I guess it’s yours after all.” Poncho gave his sketchy laugh after he finished talking. He noticed that she was looking at him strangely.
“That’s fine,” she said. “Thanks again.” She took her luggage and ran off. Poncho stared at her running off and quickly made his way back to the group.
“Oh there he is,” said Cannon. “Where the fuck were you?”
“W-What. Nowhere.”
“Okay...” Cannon stopped talking to Poncho and shifted his attention to the others. “So, where the hell are we going to stay at?”
The others shrugged and looked at Patel, seeing as he is the one who planned the trip.
“Shit. I forgot about that part.”
“Don’t worry guys,” said Fluffy with a smile, “I know a guy.”
The others looked at him strangely. “You do?” they asked in unison.
“Yeah. I met him in South Beach a few months before you guys came into that city. He told me he was a resident of this city and country. He liked my “South Beach Swag” so he gave me his address if I was ever in Amsterdam.”
“Why the hell did this guy ever leave Amsterdam for a shitty place like South Beach?” asked Wahlburn curiously. “You can do anything in this place.”
“Well, he wanted to be like everyone else and decided to “take his talents to South Beach” and live there for a few weeks.” Fluffy laughed. “That’s what’s on everyone’s bucket list nowadays.”
“What does this guy do anyway?” asked Patel. “It seems like he has it made.”
Fluffy smirked. “Oh you’ll find out.”
The group finally left the airport and caught a bus to stop. After telling the destination, the driver agreed to take them, for a bigger fee of course. The destination wasn’t in Amsterdam particularly, but in the outskirts of the city. The bus went on the main road, but everyone could see the massive amount of tulip fields in the countryside. Even though it was early December, the fields were still bright with color. After the bus went outside of the city limits for about ten minutes, the GPS on the bus went off.
“Looks like you’re here,” yelled the bus driver over the loud engine. “Get the hell off my bus. I have more trips.” They all quickly fled the bus and looked around. As the bus pulled away, a huge cottage appeared on the other side of the road.
“That’s where this guy lives?” asked Wahlburn surprised. “It’s crazy big.”
“Crazy big?” Cannon chuckled. “I’ll show you something that’s crazy big.”
“Oh shut the hell up Schultz,” replied Poncho. The two began to argue while Fluffy walked up to the gates. After studying the words on the gate he turned around.
“Yep, this is it. Follow me.” The others grabbed their luggage and walked forward alongside Fluffy. They walked through the marvelous floral trail to the front door, that seemed to have over a hundred different types of flowers and plants.
“Dad!” yelled Junior atop of Tyrone.
“Whatchu want?” said Tyrone looking back towards him.
“Are we there yet?”
“Junior! We are in the damn garden of the house. Of course we’re here.”
“Okay.”
Soon, they all reached the steps of the wondrous cottage. The steps, unlike the trail, was very plain and simple. Fluffy walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. After a few moments, the door swung open with a tall and lean olive colored stallion wearing a rasta hat. He looked down at Fluffy and soon smiled. “If it isn’t Fluffy! Mi hermana! Welkom!” He gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I hope I said that right.”
“It’s actually hermano, but you were close enough.”
“That’s good. What can I do for you my Southern Beach Swag-filled friend?”
Fluffy shifted backwards to reveal the remainder of the others at the stair’s bottom. “We need a place to stay while we are in Amsterdam. Do you mind if we can stay here?”
The olive stallion looked at them and smiled. “Of course! I have room for everyone! The more ponies the better!” He danced down the steps in front of the others. “Oh, I seem to forgot to introduce myself. My name is Bastiaan Van Der Hoof. However, around these parts I’m mostly known as “Siberian Tiger Bluntmaster.”
Wahlburn and Spike perked up. “That’s fucking awesome!”
“So, you’re a drug dealer?” asked Patel. “That’s why you are wearing that hat, why you have so much money, and that nickname?”
“Precise my boy.” Bastiaan walked back up the stairs beside Fluffy. “I have around twenty rooms in my cottage and you are all more than welcome to have your own.”
“Twenty?” asked Jeb. “Why do you have that many?”
Bastiaan grinned. “Usually, during the second saturday of every month, I throw a huge party where all my friends, fellow dealers and buyers, and even random tourists can enjoy themselves. I have multiple bedrooms incase the party-goers want to really enjoy themselves.” He kept raising his eyebrows up and down for extra emphasis.
“Oh,” said Tyrone, “I get it.”
“Dad! What’s he talking about?” asked Junior. “Do they play go in rooms to play some card games in private so no one can interrupt them?”
“It’s nothing son, I’ll tell you when you’re ten like I was.”
“Speaking of which,” began Bastiaan, “My next party is coming up this weekend. Will you dudes be sticking around till then?”
“Hell yeah!” said Spike. “I came to get stoned out of my small mind, bro!”
“Great! Since it’s still fairly early in the day, I’ll show you to your rooms and then you guys can go check out the city.” He opened the doors again and they all went inside.