As she arrived home from vacationing in Los Angeles, Agnes picked up her suitcase and headed for her car in the long-term parking lot. When she got home, she flung the suitcase on her dresser and flopped down on the bed. "Aargh! I hate airplanes!" She rested for a few minutes, then reluctantly got up to unpack. As soon as she opened the suitcase, she knew she had the wrong one. Instead of her Yashica 135 camera and Stephen Hawking book, there was a medical dictionary, an advanced anatomy book, and more. Looking through the suitcase, Agnes murmured to herself, "Must be a med student . . . at UCLA, apparently," as she came upong a hospital scrub suit, and UCLA library card, "Albert M. Stockwell. Hmmm . . . "
Noticing the 501 jeans with a 32" waist, the XL Boston Marathon t-shirt, and Reebok jogging shoes, she commented to the ever-listening air, "I guess Mr. Stockwell is health-conscious." Digging further, she uncovered pictures of five different girls, a "little black book" filled to the gills with various girls' addresses and phone numbers, a bill for a dozen roses, a package with a tag "To Marcy", and a half-written letter to Paula, "Wooo! Must be the ladies man! Half a dozen girlfriends at one time, at least!
Skipping past the dirty laundry, which was smelly too, she stopped upon a plastic box. "Hmm, what's this? 'Ski-glide. Guaranteed to let you slide down the slopes at Mach 2' I didn't realize there were ski slopes in LA," Agnes commented. She was truely intrigued now.
Next she uncovered a Scottish kilt and a matching Highland bonnet. "Must be Scottish. Hmm, maybe that explains the ski wax," Agnes noted. Towards the bottom was a bank deposit slip from the 1st Bank Of Los Angeles for $229.51, and an unpaid speeding ticket in the amount of $50, "Geez. At least two hundred smackers in the bank, and he leaves a speeding ticket unpaid for . . . 3 months!" When she read it closely, the speeding ticket was dated July 3, 1996 . . . over 3 months ago! But, coming across a Bible and two ticket stubs from the Los Angeles Community Opera, she noted, "Well, he still has some culture left after unpaid tickets and multiple girlfriends. That says something for his character." Then she spotted the Star Trek costume. "Oh, a Trekker too! Interesting man, this Albert Stockwell. I wonder if he's in town for the con in Rosemont?" Putting everything back where it was, she picked up the phone and called the American Airlines desk at O'Hare. "Yes, I'd like to report a baggage mix-up . . . Yes, I picked up someone else's baggage. Name? . . . Oh, the owner of the baggage . . . Albert Stockwell . . . Just like it sounds . . . oh, he's there? . . . he has my suitcase? . . . Wonderful! I'll drive right there . . . Thank you . . . Goodbye!" Smiling, Agnes jumped up and grabbed the suitcase. "Finally! I want to get back to A Brief History Of Time," she exclaimed, as she hopped in the car and drove back to O'Hare.
Reaching the American Airlines Service Desk, she saw a tall, handsome man standing by it, holding her suitcase. She walked up to him, held out her hand, and said, "You must be Albert Stockwell. I'm Agnes Gareffa. I'm sorry about the mix-up." He smiled, and she found herself staring at the dimples that formed.
"Nae problem 't all, Miss Gareffa. Here." He held out her suitcase, and she handed him his.
"So, plan on staying in Chicago long?" Agnes queried.
"Nae too long. I'm here tae speak at a Star Trek convention on real-life medicine compared t'Star Trek's medicine. Would you like to come to the costume ball with me?"
Agnes blushed, "Sure. When is the ball?"
He looked shocked, "Tomorrow night at seven. Weren't you planning on going, or are ye just joining me t'apologise?"
She blushed even harded, "No, I just hadn't been planning on going to the ball."
He smiled, "You know, we should co-ordinate our costumes. I have my Original Series McCoy medical scrub. Do ye think ye could come in an Original Series nurse uniform?"
Agnes grinned, "That's my favorite one! I just finished making a copy of Nurse Chapel's uniform last week."
He held his hand out to her, "Pick ye up at 4? Ye can come hear m'talk, and then we can shop a while, and go get dinner before th'ball starts. What's a good restaurant around here?"
Agnes took his hand, and walked out towards the parking lot with him, "Well, you haven't seen Chicago until you've seen Harry Caray's! You want a ride to your hotel?"
He grinned, "Sure. Thanks." They walked out to her car, and drove into the sunset, chatting together like they had been friends all their lives.
Last updated 05 JUL 98
[Home] [Guest Book] [Back to Lenora's Fiction Archive]
[Take my Survey] [What's New]
[Music]
[Science Fiction]
[Story Archive] [Scotland]
[The 60s] [Figure Skating]
[Concert & Convention Diary] [Beadwork]
[Links] [Reviews]
[Webring] [Search Engines]