Note: This will be a series of short stories from my trip. I will add onto each page as time goes on. 

Stepping out of the airplane and onto the jet bridge in Columbus, Ohio immediately took me back to Florida. If I wasn’t inundated with advertisements on the walls welcoming me to Ohio, the hot, humid air alone would’ve been enough to convince me that I was at the St Pete-Clearwater airport. But, before I could get much farther in my thoughts, my grandma Connie began to talk.

“So, according to the signs, baggage claim and the rental car place are to our right, right?”

“Yup.” I nodded as I glanced up at the green and purple signs guiding us through the terminal. 

The Columbus airport itself reminded me very much of the Minneapolis airport. It was small and not too crowded, even though we were among the herd of passengers getting off our flight. We walked past a few small travel shops, then through a set of automatic doors that led us past security and to a set of escalators that led down to baggage claim. Once at baggage claim, it didn’t take long for our luggage to end up on the luggage carousel. First, I helped an elderly man who was struggling to get his luggage off the carousel, then went to grab both mine and my grandma’s suitcases, which were both next to each other. 

I didn’t have any time to rest before we were racing to catch the shuttle that would take us to the rental car place. We jogged out a set of double doors into a parking garage, and I was immediately hit with a wave of hot, muggy air that I could practically drink. We were packed into the shuttle bus like sardines, and I did my best to hold my breath as we endured the longest five-minute drive of my life. 

I tried to get my bearings straight by watching the scenery fly by out the foggy bus windows. However, all I saw were deciduous trees that seemed to be drooping from the heat, construction zones, and a glimpse of the runway. Then, we arrived at another concrete structure: the rental car garage. 

As soon as the bus was slowing to a stop, I stood up and yanked both mine and my grandma’s suitcases off the luggage rack. I’m pretty sure the bus driver yelled at me for standing up so early, but I was ready to get the hell outta there. The doors opened and I practically jumped down the stairs with a suitcase in each hand. My grandma Connie was close behind me. She, too, was ready to get the hell outta there. 

Things continued to be a blur till we were in the parking garage, staring at the closed trunk of our black Nissan Altima. 

“Alrighty.” my grandma Connie sighed, “How do we open the trunk?”

I looked at the key fob, noticed an icon for the trunk, and pressed it down till the trunk popped open. 

“There we go.” I nodded as I handed the keys back to my grandma, then I knelt down to put our suitcases inside.