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mellophase · 2 years

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Post-Mortem: My Heart Bled Out At Prudential Center (A True Story of Music and Human Connection)

I went to MCR’s first show in Newark a few weeks ago. I travelled over six hundred miles (something I didn’t really realize until after the fact, somehow, and I was appalled at myself for doing it) to see them in their home state. I’ve had some time to process the experience and recover from flying there and back and being awake for thirty-two hours because EWR was way too cold to sleep in, and I want to just write down the experience and some things I came away with because I’m not quite sure it was all real. This is super fucking long so I’m including a break. Hope you enjoy!

It was quiet the morning I left. No one besides I, my partner, Ticketmaster, and God knew where I was going that morning. My brother knew I had tickets, but didn’t know when I was going. It was stupid in hindsight-- Newark isn’t necessarily the kindest city in New Jersey nor the US, and I’d never been there on my own before. My mother knew I would be out of town, but she thought I’d be a two hour drive away, not a two hour flight. I’m old enough to make my own decisions, of course, but even at 20 years old, she’d never be comfortable with me going to Jersey. I went down to my car and couldn’t even manage to turn the radio on. It was 4:30 in the morning. The sun hadn’t even risen yet. I felt anxiety swell as I pulled into the economy lot at the airport and killed the engine. My headlights stayed on for a minute, illuminating the empty spot in front of me. I had passing thoughts about who I would call if I somehow locked my keys in my car or I left my headlights on by mistake and my car battery died. I dismissed them quickly, “keys, wallet, phone-ing” myself till I felt sure that I actually remembered and then it was dark except for the streetlights.

The shuttle ride to my terminal was quiet other than a man across from me making jokes with the driver (he and his wife were going to Savannah, to a beach, and told me I’d like Newark if I was a city bird. I am not, but it was sweet of them to say.) TSA was unremarkable and uneventful, and I sat in concourse B to do my makeup. I had a little drawstring bag with all the essentials someone could need-- eyeshadow, liner, phone charger, ear buds, a sketchbook, granola bars, and my wallet. I had flown alone so many times before, made some little excursions across a few tri-states, but even I could tell this one was different. I texted my partner the whole two hours before my flight took off, trying hard not to chew my nails and chip the shockingly even black polish I’d so carefully put on while watching the Georgia livestreams Sunday night. I held my breath through the entire taxi process until we took off in the air, a solid 7:00 in the morning, Eastern Standard Time. The sun was just starting to rise, and I was enjoying the soft pinks and purples of the sky. The photos could never do it justice. Nor could it do the bright pink of the sun justice when the man in the seat next to me (14 B, a sweet guy whose wife and son were a couple rows ahead of us) drew my attention to it. I spent most of my time looking out the window. It was the first time I’d flown on a clear day and could actually see the world pass by. There was nothing below me I recognized besides the Appalachian Mountains as we passed them, and it made me smile to see them, knowing I’d be leaving them behind for a day. It was quickly replaced by awe once I saw the familiar landscape of New York City, a sight I hadn’t beheld with my own eyes since I was 16. Then Newark appeared soon after. I held my breath again as we landed at 9:38 AM, and a swiftly turned off Airplane Mode to text my partner to let them know I was safe.

The walk after that was a blur-- departing terminal B, a very kind staff member helping me figure out exactly where I’d have to transfer to get to Newark Penn Station (and texting my partner a quick “Fuck Chicago” because everyone in EWR was more helpful than anyone in O’Hare ever was in all the times I’ve been), and then I was finally on the train to Newark. I could see Prudential Center out the window as we passed, and I felt my heart in my throat. It was so large it was like a beacon.

I stepped off into Penn station, and was immediately hit with the smell that only large cities seem to have-- the smell of exhaust, sewage, and grit. It was such a difference from where I grew up: clean mountain breezes, humidity, and honeysuckle permeating the air so thickly it was sickening. I remember murmuring to myself as soon as I got off the train: “This is insane.”

Then again as I stepped out of the station: “This is insane.”

Again as I walked down Market Street: “This is insane.”

And once more as I saw Prudential Center across the street: “This is insane.”

To this day, I don’t think I’ve uttered those three words more than I did that day.

I was horrendously early, especially for someone with a seated ticket, so I grabbed a coffee before I headed over toward the venue. I met a girl who was also attending the show (she was from Georgia, and she was so kind). We walked over to the venue together, but she was waiting in the GA line, so I bid her farewell. I sat at the benches by Ford Tower, watching hockey players enter and exit the building and drew little nonsense drawings in my sketchbooks (Frank in his outfit from Revenge, Lunchbox (the dog), and Gerard with iced coffee) before tweeting The Homeless Gospel Choir asking for drawing ideas. They asked me to draw their band, and I did in about 40 minutes. I’d only brought pencils with me, so it was sketchy and a little rough, but they loved it anyway. I found out they edited the drawing to make the lines stand out more, and posted it to their Twitter account. By this point, it wasn’t even noon. Still six hours and some change to kill before doors opened.

It was then someone I had seen sitting by the corner came up to me. Dorian|Kate. He was one of the people I remember the most that day because we spent around five hours together just chatting. She was kind. Asked if I minded him smoking around me, I didn’t but I didn’t smoke (but totally asked for a cigarette hours later, and she made sure it wasn’t my first because “I refuse to give someone their first one”). He drove three hours to be there, and they were an artist. We talked about our favorite albums, how we found MCR, the people important to us, and all sorts of things. (She follows me here now and if you’re reading this-- hello! I hope you made it home safe). He drew ‘Very Much Alive’ on my neck for me and laughed when I made a joke about how that was the most homoerotic experience I’d had. I wrote on her arms too, but I don’t remember what she asked me to do. He gave a homeless woman (who we found out was named Tammy) money for her birthday, and spoke to her in the most kind and understanding way I have ever seen. I was fascinated. I am always nervous around strangers for the most part, and I know she is a kinder person that I ever could have been. I wouldn’t have helped (partially because I wasn’t able to), but she didn’t hesitate in the slightest.

I waited with him in the GA line for a while, making sure I wasn’t numbered. I was there to have fun. I met a couple of girls, friends from out of the country (one from London who was just there to drop off and support her friend who was born in Egypt, but now lives in the UAE. They met at a music festival in 2016, and have been friends ever since!), a girl from Newark, and another from New York. I said hi to someone I knew from Twitter. The hours passed quickly, and when I was able to find the energy to speak, I was able to make some wonderful connections with the lovely people around me. I even got to meet three members of The Homeless Gospel Choir: Derek, Maura, and Megan! I gave them my drawing, and they gave me a sticker (and a hug. Derek asked if he could before he did it, which I greatly appreciate because I don’t usually like being touched) in turn. I learned they were from my hometown, and Derek jokingly said I should meet them for wings when they were back in town, and I told them they knew how to reach me now, so just say the word.

As lines tend to do, GA had to move, and so did my friends. It was still another hour until doors opened, so I said goodbye for the time being, and went to go wait by the doors. There was a small group of people sitting by the steps who let me join in on their little circle (who I found out later were Jo, Joy, Lizard, and KJ-- artists I had long admired and appreciated for how they captured the band. Though I’d been following KJ for a lot longer for a piece of Hozier art they’d made years ago. There were also a couple of people I don’t remember the names of because I was very nervous and overwhelmed. I was only able to remember everyone else’s names because I had known of them before I barely heard their names because I'm a little hard of hearing and couldn't focus fast enough to lip read). We chatted back and forth, and I was so nervous I could have thrown up because I was around people I admired a fair bit. I met another man, Brian, who they were all familiar with, and he was kind to me as well. We didn’t speak much, but his eyes were as kind as the people I sat in out little circle with. I was gifted a pin, and they let me take an extra one for my partner who couldn’t attend the concert due to them living overseas. Every one of them was all gentle smiles and kind hearts.

A staff member for Prudential Center announcing that backpacks would not be allowed in the center made my blood run cold, and my heart weigh heavy in my chest. What money I had on me (I had been budgeting before the concert. Saving what I could to buy a shirt, my train tickets, parking at the airport, and some small food items to keep me from having a blood sugar crash. I’d only been able to go to the concert due to a Delta gift card I’d been given for my 20th birthday and the ‘Buy Now, Pay Later’ option with Ticketmaster) was all in cash, and it was $8 compared to the ten I needed to buy a locker. This was it. The show was over before it had even started. I very, very quietly asked if anyone in the group intended to get a locker, but already was pulling up the NJ Transit app to pull up my return ticket to EWR and check the train schedules. There had been no intention to, but Jo offered to get one. That kindness was the whole reason I get to write about this experience now, and I don’t think they will ever understand just how much that means to me.

We stood in line once they started directing us to line up at the doors, and we chattered for a little longer, though I was mostly listening at this point. We said quick goodbyes when they opened, and I agreed to meet them outside the center after the concert, and then it was just another hour before the show.

I found my seat quickly enough (Section 20, row 14, seat 13), and some kind strangers took my photo in front of the stage before the show. I was texting my partner again, though it was on and off as it was well past 11PM in the UK, and they were exhausted. Once they were safely asleep, I meet my seat neighbor, Julianna. She was local, and this was her first time seeing MCR. Her fiancé was in the pit that night, and she got tickets a lot later than he did, so she was running solo that night in her own way, the same as me. Again, there was back and forth conversation, and I learned that she was a speech therapist, she loved Anthony Green and Circa Survive, and that her fiancé had a band at one point in time and was touring, but was now working in music management. I told her about my partner, how I got back into My Chem (DM’ing my now partner on Twitter back in July of last year when I barely knew them asking “You talk about this DILF [Cherri Cola] a lot. What is he from?”), and about my experiences so far that day.

As The Homeless Gospel Choir took the stage, I let myself get lost in the music. Half their set was introduced with “this is a protest song” and I couldn’t help but smile. I couldn’t hear all the words clearly, the unfamiliarity of them making it a little hard for me to understand, but I could feel their energy, even though I wasn’t right in front of them. Then that little fifteen minute break before Thursday took the stage. I’d seen Thursday two weeks before at a tiny little venue a state over from mine. Same as last time I saw them, I didn’t know a single word, but I still enjoyed everything they brought to the stage. I was familiar with them though digging deeper into the origins of MCR as well as learning about LS Dunes and The Future Violents. I was enjoying the set, and then I felt my heart cinch as I heard the dedication Geoff made before a song:

“This song is for the human rights of everyone in this arena. This song is for reproductive rights. This song is for the right to express your gender and sexuality in a safe way.”

I was never a part of the punk scene in my city. I did so many extracurriculars in high school I never left. I spent 13 hours a day in that building five days a week, and spent weekends there or on the road for band, theater, and speech and debate. But I wondered, had I been involved, if I would have met people like him. People who were so relentlessly strange, and honest, and good. Pepple who had more compassion for their fellow humans than I have ever seen.

The set continued on, they were beautiful— and then they hit me with two more gut punches. One was bringing our Gerard for Jet Black New Year, followed by Anthony Green joining then toward the end of their set. I watched in awe, and my hands were shaking. Not only was awe present, but a distinct feeling of warmth (and a tinge of jealousy— getting to play in a band with your best friends is always something I've ached for, and now they get to play with each other and I felt a little sick). I wasn't inconsolable, but I was quiet during thay half hour before MCR took the stage. I talked to Julianna, cheered for vacuum guy, but I hardly remember it all.

When the static started, I felt my gut heave. I had barely anything left in my stomach, but I felt like I was going to loose everything I had in my body regardless. Bones. Blood. Internal organs. Everything was going good. be ripped out of me. Even as I heard the opening riff of Foundations I felt that tug. I felt a pull so deep inside of me. I had a distinct remembrance of telling people how much performing with a group meant to me. How connected I felt to this group of people. It was overwhelming to feel that not only with the group performing, but the entire arena itself. Everyone was cheering, crying, waiting with bated breath to see what they would do next, singing, screaming— it was breathtaking. I was hit with one moment of sheer joy after another as the songs shifted, even though I'd heard them all before, seeing them in this light was heaven.

Once more, I felt myself choking up as Gerard invited a friend to the stage. Geoff entering for Best Day Ever made that deep, longing ache settle in my chest again. It wasn't a song I knew well, but it was beautiful all the same to watch him and Gerard interact. Men who had known each other longer than I'd been alive. How much that affection and admiration was so very clear even after all this time. By the time they reached the encore, I was a mess. I was silent through Demolition Lovers, and cried my way through The Kids From Yesterday ("This is a song that we play just for us"). Ray's solo had me entirely entranced, and I could feel every emotion from the past day pour out of me. I was so deathly convinced that I was dying. The weight in my chest and the pounding of my skull from my screaming could have been enough to knock me to the floor. I envisioned the blood pouring from my hands, my eyes, my stomach. All because of the way I felt my heart and view had been ripped away and rearranged in the span of an hour and a half. I was silent as I left the center, giving Jo only several quiet thank you's as they returned my bag to me, and then walking to the station. I talked once I got to my platform. A lot. I talked the whole 45 minutes, and I listened in turn. I met some students from New York. A parent who said they received the ticket as a gift, and who said they were so thankful to be able to see them live and listen to them again after a period of trauma where they weren't able to.

Then the train home. Trying to sleep in EWR despite how cold it was. Silence for hours upon hours until TSA opened. I walked through, and just sat at my gate, getting up occasionally to make sure I didn't loose blood flow. Then called my partner once they woke up for the day. The flight home was equally as uneventful, but I had time to think. A lot. I thought about everyone I had met. Everyone who had shown kindness to me and others. Everyone who experienced what I had.

The spell was broken for a little while as I returned to my home state. Especially because I saw the mother of one of my acquaintances from high school. She'd known me since I was a soft, round 12 year old, and here she was seeing me covered in makeup and a Mikey Fuckin Way shirt looking like I hadn't slept in days. She gave me a smile and told me "I thought that was you". The pleasantries we exchanged were brief, but the haze returned as soon as I was behind the wheel of my car and alone with my thoughts again.

I walked out of that concert with more motivation than ever. I wanted to connect. To create. To bring someone solace when they need it and touch the hearts and minds of everyone I could. Even though I was exhausted, the first thing I did when I got home was pick up my guitar and wail. It wasn't good. It wasn't about being good, though, it was about the fact that if I didn't create something right that second, it would all be worth nothing. Every ounce of energy and goodness that had been pushed my way in the past 48 hours was for nothing. I finally collapsed on my bed after a while, too exhausted to do anything but succumb to the exhaustion. But it was still everything I'd ever wanted. It was my secret. One that was between me, my partner, all those strangers, MCR, and whatever god had chosen to smile down upon me enough to let me experience it all.

#essay #this is a long sappy way of saying mcrnj1 was the best night of my fucking life #i will never know anything like it again #my chemical romance #thursday band #the homless gospel choir #frank iero #gerard way #ray toro #mikey way #thank you to everyone who was nice to me and kept me sane #thank you for making all of that so special

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rosecarlsonmemoirs · 9 months

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Thursday . . .

That morning marked the first of many mornings of preparing myself and packing up my beautification essentials in a flurry before racing to the airport, arriving twenty to thirty minutes before my plane’s departure. Amateurishly, I fumbled through the process, but I was putting extra effort into achieving a unique look. My day-to-day life called for routine attire. But I had a secret love for eccentric fashion, so when traveling, I tended to go a little overboard.

On that morning, I was hoping to recreate a Pinterest look: a demure gray sweater dress glamorously accessorized for fresh, adorable street style. The night before, I laid all my pieces out on the floor like a child preparing for the first day of school. I compiled all the necessities, down to the infinity scarf, tights, ankle boots, and to-go coffee cup—all integral to the completion of the look. I added one accouterment that was solely my own—fingerless gloves with fur trim. Always a must on winter days where both hand coverage and iPhone screen manipulation are mandatory. Bonus—they provided camouflage for the bold map scrawled on the back of my hand.

My flight path set me at the Chicago O’Hare airport at 7:40 a.m., and the conference hotel was a swift ten-minute shuttle ride away. Assuming a void of glaring errors, I calculated my arrival should be well cushioned for the 8:30 a.m. class. Unfortunately, I was overly confident in my ability to schedule this all so seamlessly.

#writers on tumblr #memoir #chicklit #life lessons #love story #midlife career change #midlifewomen #storytelling #shit i write #depressing shit #my writing #original writing

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cheaphotelshub · 11 months

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worldlites · 1 year

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US: Airplane Collides With Shuttle Bus At Chicago Airport, 2 Injured

The incident occurred with an Air Wisconsin Airlines operated flight while the plane prepared for take off at the O’Hare International Airport in Chicago when it collided with a shuttle bus. Source link

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bartletttiptoptaxiil · 1 year

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escodriving · 1 year

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ajlimoservicechicago · 1 year

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suburbanrides · 3 years

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The final words

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chicagolimo01 · 5 years

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songofsaraneth · 3 years

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an incomplete list of the Bullshit ive gone through this year (2021 only), for personal edification:

I am in grad school trying to do research as well as TA a lab class during a global pandemic

My car is broken into in late February outside of my apartment. $1700+ of my backpacking/camping gear and personal items were stolen from it. Ironically they did not find the $20 cash I had.

Car battery begins mysterious dying if left overnight and have to call for rescue from AAA 4 separate times over the course of March. I suspect it is related to being broken into but can’t prove it without a mechanic’s diagnostics.

First mechanic I bring my car to does nothing for the entire MONTH they have it, except break my air conditioning of all things. I live in a desert. It is now 90º every day. At one point they call me to say they can’t get the back doors to open. I walk 2 miles back to them from campus and demonstrate how the automatic doors work on a 2005 minivan. I begin to have regrets about my mechanic choice but the sunk fallacy cost keeps me there for several weeks.

Mid march I also wake up one day to severe jaw pain/a weird “loose” feeling, like my mouth is slanting sideways. It is midterms and I do not have time for this, so I take a lot of ibuprofen and eat soup for a week. After 3 days I shove pillows and blankets around my face one night to keep my jaw aligned and when I wake up the next morning it is severely tight instead of loose, and I have to carefully stretch it open whenever I leave my mouth closed for more than an hour. I guess I just have TMJ now.

At this point I am walking everywhere until bike supplies arrive to fix my flat tire since the bike store is too far away to walk to; including walking back and forth to campus since I can only bring 2-4 out of 8 students into the lab spaces at a time and so effectively have to run each weekly lab 2-4 times per week; as well as going back and forth for greenhouse experiment monitoring/helping undergrads on our NASA contest project

Early April I go to the dentist for a crown on one of my back molars, which I must pay for out of pocket because my new dental insurance purchased when I moved last September has a 1-year waiting period and so will not cover it ($1200). Stretching my jaw open so far for the procedure reignites my new TMJ back to high pain levels.

While still waiting on car in mid-April I have a severe averse reaction to the second dose of the Covid19 vaccine, resulting in painful ulceration of all the soft tissues in my body (mouth, stomach, genitals). It is a very bad time for 3 days and I book an urgent care appointment for the first time ever.

Urgent Care nurse-practitioner does not believe me when I describe what’s happening, and misdiagnoses me with herpes.

I am still biking everywhere but now I’m extra mad and in pain about it so take car back from mechanic so I can get groceries etc. I make an appointment with the dealership but it will be a week until they can take it. In the meanwhile I have to drive it every 8 hours so it won’t die which means getting up at 2am to drive it for 20 minutes in the middle of the night so it will still turn on in the morning.

I have a terrible reaction to the numbing cream given to me for the painful open sores over my body, because of a lifelong mint sensitivity, resulting in an even greater amount of pain

The dealership can fix my car over the following week but its $1800 and now insurance isn’t sure they want to cover it after all

Herpes test comes back negative and nurse apologizes profusely and recommends a non-mint OTC numbing cream alternative that works (yay) and a numbing spray that does not work because it turned out to use an alcohol based propellant which should not be combined with open wounds esp on the genitals (ouch ouch ouch). I try to tell the nurse why I was right about my diagnosis and she was wrong but she still believes it was a latent virus of some other variety and and not an immune response alone, despite the published case studies I have brought to back me up. I decide I have bigger hills I need to die on right now and stop arguing. Sores persist into May but eventually do go down and numbing cream keeps me moderately functioning.

Car is fixed and I can drive again but it takes 2 hours of crying on the phone to my insurance company for them to agree to cover the cost of repair

I make a primary care appointment for the first time in years so I can have a doctor in this state if something like this happens to me again, in June I do intake/bloodwork/set up appointments to check out some other issues ive been having

Grad school finals happen which i wont get into but Yeah. Finals stress triggers another outbreak of canker sores, but mostly clustered in my mouth and only 2 on my vulva rather than 8-12. I eat only soup for another week.

I get a referral to the local mental health clinic and call about setting up an appointment for an ADHD evaluation. They tell me to download and send in some paperwork and they will call when they have available appointments

I am supposed to be doing all my labwork over the summer but the committee member I need escapes my clutches and we don’t manage to set up a meeting to plan it out/for him to explain the protocols until late June

Bloodwork shows I am critically low in vitamin b12 and low in D, which may explain some of why I am so tired all the time

Ultrasound shows a 1.8cm mass in the adnexa near my left ovary. There are several options for what it can be (folicular cyst, other kind of cyst, tumor, ectopic pregnancy i nearly laugh at my Dr and reassure her the last one is not possible if nothing else). It may go away on its own or it may not. Follow up scan in 2 months

I remember I was supposed to email forms to the mental health clinic and finally send those in mid July. It seems cruel to make me be the one to remember this considering I am calling about a formal ADHD diagnosis.

I also finally pin everyone relating to my labwork down and have a follow up meeting + make a list of what we need to order, but the staff who place orders are on vacation and when they get back several reagents are backordered

I have my follow-up ultrasound. The tech takes lots of photos which indicates the mass is still present, but I won’t know any details until my next PCP appointment when they send over the analysis to her in mid-August

Beginning of August the reagents I need for the first steps of the process arrive exactly 1 day before I leave town for a wedding and the lab manager is about to leave town for the entire next week

After the wedding, severe thunderstorms and tornados trap me in Chicago for 4 extra days. I spend a lot of time at the airport or on my way between the airport and my parents house. A facebook friend gets video of the funnel clouds which at least gives me something to sadly email my advisor and committee members when I have to join our planning meeting from my gate at O’Hare

I lose my drivers license at the security checkpoint on my last trip through the airport and don’t realize until I am boarding the plane because of course that is happening to me now

On the shuttle from El Paso back to Las Cruces after this ordeal the driver stops and picks up a box labeled HUMAN BLOOD and puts it in the trunk and i am too tired to care anymore

I stay up all night making the world’s most pitiful r graphs for my meeting the next morning and everyone takes pity on me and does not call out how useless they are

I spend the weekend trying to motivate myself to actually go into the lab and start my procedures, and fail to leave my apartment. This reminds me it has now been a month (Aug 15th) since I sent in my paperwork and the mental health clinic has still not called me back about up an appointment

I get overwhelmed with Everything and make this list

So that’s where I’m at at the moment. And this doesn’t even include anything from 2020 thats just been continuous like, y’know, a global pandemic and having a bad breakup of a 4 year relationship and moving to a new city where I know no one for grad school etc. I feel like I’m falling apart/unable to do all the shit I need to right now but you know what? Actually its been a really bad time and maybe falling apart a little is justified ;_;

#ramblings #wharglbargle #like Damn its been a Time and i need to cry about it i guess #negativity //

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cdelphiki · 5 years

Text

There Are Worse Ways to Spend Christmas

Honestly, holiday travel was the worst, in Tim’s opinion. The absolute worst thing on the face of the planet, and an all around terrible way to spend time right around Christmas.

Between crowded airports, snobby entitled irate passengers, and frequent weather cancellations, traveling during December was probably the worst thing ever.

And yes, that was very much exaggerating, because Tim’s mind immediately supplied several things that had happened that year that beat flying near Christmas in the ‘terrible’ category, but he just wasn’t in a good mood, so he was going to be dramatic about it.

Bruce wanted the lot of them to meet up at the cabin in Colorado to have a nice, quiet Christmas with just the family. Which, on paper, sounded nice. Christmas with all the kids plus Alfred and Bruce, far away from Gotham and the social engagements they’d be expected to attend otherwise sounded incredibly relaxing.

But that was before Tim processed that he’d have to fly with Damian, commercial, to Colorado to meet up with everyone else.

Why?

Because his family hated him, obviously.

The private plane was currently in Japan, where Bruce and Alfred were finishing up a series of meetings at the Tokyo office, and since it would be bringing them to Colorado that day, it was unavailable to bring Damian and Tim, the only two left in Gotham so close to Christmas, to Colorado. Stupid school lasting until the Friday right before Christmas Eve, which was on a Monday that year, meant they couldn’t have just left early to allow the jet to bring them all.

No.

Tim Drake and Damian Wayne had to fly commercial. On Christmas Eve eve.

First class, of course, but on small little regional jets, first class was a paltry comparison to the comfort to which they were accustomed. And the whole “unaccompanied minor” thing was really grating at Tim’s nerves. Because Damian wasn’t unaccompanied. Tim was right there. He was 16, and according to the airline’s policy, that made Damian accompanied. But that didn’t stop the stupid flight attendants from being extra attentive.

At least they were being left relatively alone during their layover in Chicago.

Which was how Tim found himself curled up into one of the kind-of comfortable waiting chairs near their gate, playing a game on his iPad, completely ignoring his little brother. It was the most peace he’d had all day. He could still see Damian over his knees. Kind of. Saw his spiky hair in the next seat over, at least, so he wasn’t being entirely neglectful.

But Damian wasn’t bothering him. Wasn’t trying to pick a fight or release his frustrations on Tim, so Tim was going to enjoy every single second of it.

Then, of course, the gate agent had to ruin the entire night.

“Attention passengers, Flight 1029 to Aspen has been delayed,” she announced over the speaker, and Tim couldn’t make out the rest of her announcement over the loud chorus of groans from everyone around them. Because the flight was supposed to begin boarding in about 10 minutes.

His phone buzzed with a notification from the American Airlines app, which informed him that it was delayed by three hours.

“This is ridiculous,” Damian pouted, hitting Tim’s legs with his coat as he slung it off himself to stand, “the third weather delay today. You would think airlines would be used to flying in the snow. It’s not like it doesn’t happen every year.”

“It’s one of those dumb named storms,” Tim said, scrolling through the weather report in Aspen to see if in three hours it would be any better, “it’s basically a blizzard.”

“That does not change my opinion,” Damian drawled, rolling his eyes as he stared out the window directly behind Tim.

“So because hurricanes happen every year, pilots should know how to fly through those? Get real, Damian.”

“Tt. It’s just snow.”

“Snow and wind and zero visibility,” Tim said, flipping to the Hilton app to reserve a room at the airport’s hotel. The weather report wasn’t looking good, and he had a feeling that the flight would be outright cancelled. If that happened, he wanted a room in the airport. He’d rather not deal with crowded shuttles to an off-site hotel once the airport finally cancelled all the flights to the areas being assaulted by Winter-storm Fisher.

Seriously, why the hell did they name snowstorms now?

Tim reserved the room under Bruce’s name, because it would be impossible otherwise to get a room for a 10 and 16 year old. The hotel really didn’t need to know that Bruce wasn’t even in the country and wouldn’t be staying with them.

“Damian?” one of the gate agents said, as she approached the two of them in the waiting area, “So the flight has been delayed by-”

“Yes, three hours. We are aware,” Damian snapped, “As I keep telling you people, I do not require your hovering. My father did not request the unaccompanied minor service, so I do not see why you are providing it anyway.”

“We are just ensuring that-”

“I don’t care,” Damian said, waving a hand at the woman as he turned to gaze out the window again.

Tim just shrugged at the slightly flustered woman and offered a simple, “Sorry. We’re tracking though, thanks.”

“Tt. I am never flying commercial again.”

“Bold declaration for 10,” Tim said, just before he sighed and sat up. It was nearing 6pm. They should probably go grab dinner while they had the time, on the off chance that the flight actually did happen.

“I am a Wayne, if I want to fly exclusively by private jet, there is literally nothing stopping me.”

“Except Bruce hogging it,” Tim said, shoving his iPad and headphones into his carry-on. For the first time, he was so glad Alfred had convinced them to pack into carry-ons instead of with checked luggage. He enjoyed the freedom and ease of traveling with just a simple messenger bag to carry around, but knowing that they had their clothes and toothbrushes with them was a relief. They wouldn’t be buying ridiculous Chicago themed clothing tonight in one of the overpriced gift shops.

“What are you doing?” Damian asked, eyeing Tim as he slipped his boots back on and tied them.

Instead of answering, Tim asked, “Chili’s or the Macaroni Grill?” as he stood to his feet, attaching his coat to the top of his luggage.

Damian straightened up a bit, to Tim’s amusement, at the prospect of food and shuffled to gather up his items as well. “The Macaroni Grill,” he finally said, making a face at the suggestion of Chili’s.

Dinner went a lot smoother than Tim was expecting. In fact, the entire day until that point had gone smoother than he expected. Even with leaving for the airport at 5am and spending nearly every moment since together, the two of them really hadn’t fought much. Every once in a while Damian would make a scathing remark, but would then be quiet for at least half an hour after he did so.

It was nice.

“Why’re you being so good,” Tim asked over their pasta. They still had a little over two hours until boarding. Perhaps he shouldn’t be looking this gift horse in the mouth, but he was genuinely curious.

“I know how to behave in public, Drake,” Damian drawled, pushing around the last bits of his dinner on his plate before taking a sip of his soda.

Aside from the fact that Damian did not know how to behave in public, that really didn’t answer anything.

“Besides,” Damian continued, “our every move is being watched here, and Father told me if we get arrested by security for any reason he’s holding me personally responsible.”

“He did not,” Tim said, grinning wide.

Damian scowled at Tim and snapped, “That was not a challenge, Drake. I will inform Father if you sabotage our travel for the express purpose of getting me grounded.”

Tim just laughed and said, “Unlike you, I’m not a demon, I wouldn’t do that,” just as his phone started buzzing in his pocket.

When he pulled it out, he saw Bruce’s face staring at him. “Speak of the devil,” Tim muttered as he slid to accept the call, “Hey Bruce.”

“I see your flight has been delayed again. How are you two holding up?”

“Let me talk to him,” Damian said, reaching out for the phone.

Tim swatted Damian’s hand away and said, “We’re fine. Annoyed, but we went ahead and got dinner. I know we were supposed to eat together there, but you know.”

“We had to land in Seattle and won’t attempt again until morning, anyway. Dick and Jason got in just before it started to snow, and Steph and Cass are still in the air, but I don’t think the flight will make it to Aspen. So most of us won’t get there until tomorrow, anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m expecting American Airlines to just cancel to try again tomorrow,” Tim said, taking one last bite of his food, “so I booked us a hotel tonight just in case.”

“Let me know if you have trouble checking in. The storm is moving across the country toward you, I would not be surprised if O’Hare cancels flights tomorrow as the storm passes over you there.”

“Great,” Tim said dramatically, leaning back in his chair. Damian was just glaring at him expectantly, “Damian wants to talk to you.”

“Okay. Stay safe and just be patient. Delays and cancellations are better than plane crashes.”

“Yeah, thanks for that thought,” Tim said just as he handed the phone off to Damian.

“Father, I refuse to fly commercial ever again, this method of travel is-” Damian started, then paused and listened with a pinched face, “Yes, but- No. No.”

Tim tried his best not to look too amused as Damian went from smug and entitled to adequately chagrined as he listened silently to Bruce for a full minute. Bruce must have lectured him pretty hard.

“Fine. But I will not fly commercial at Christmas. This holiday is ridiculous and the number of people in this airport is unacceptable. Yes, Father. I will. Goodbye.”

“Sounds like you will be flying commercial again,” Tim said in amusement as he took his phone back and pulled a $100 out of his wallet to give to the waitress to cover their meal and her tip.

“Shut up, Drake,” Damian mumbled as he dragged his suitcase behind him in the most pout-filled way Tim had ever seen.

And that’s how the rest of the evening went. Silently as Damian pouted. As their departure time came and went without so much as a boarding call, Damian began getting antsy.

“This is the fourth time they’ve delayed us by 15 minutes,” he exclaimed after yet another announcement over the PA system, “this is unacceptable.”

“You know they’re going to cancel the flight, right?” Tim said, turning the page in a book he’d picked up in the airport bookstore, “We’ll probably sit here another 30 minutes while they continue deluding themselves about not cancelling a flight on Christmas Eve eve.”

Damian let out an angry growl, which just sounded like a child throwing a tantrum, and flung himself down on the chair next to Tim. “I hate this.”

“Take a nap,” Tim said as he pulled his coat out from the chair under him to let Damian use it as a pillow, “I’ll wake you when they decide what they’re doing.”

“I will not take a nap,” Damian pouted, “I’m not tired, just frustrated.”

“You’ve been awake since 4am, you’re tired.”

“So have you.”

“Yeah,” Tim said patiently, “but I took a nap after lunch, so.”

“I will not take a nap,” Damian repeated, aggressively grabbing Tim’s coat to lay against.

“That’s fine,” Tim hummed, trying not to smile as he continued reading.

“And Christmas Eve eve is not a thing,” Damian mumbled, burrowing himself down into Tim’s coat with his own wrapped around him, “stop being ridiculous.”

“Of course it’s a thing,” Tim said, lifting his feet up onto his suitcase so he could get settled back a little more comfortably, “It’s what today is.”

“Hmph.”

It took another 45 minutes, but finally the flight was outright cancelled. By that point, everyone was too exhausted to put up too much of a fuss, and the groans heard around the gate were more out of obligation than actual anger. Tim had heard several people all around him make arrangements for the night already, so this was clearly no surprise to anyone.

Tim took his time using the hotel’s app to “check in” before he began gathering up his things. He put his boots on and shoved his book and tablet back in his bag before he finally nudged Damian.

“Okay, Demon, nap’s over.”

“I was not napping,” Damian mumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he sat up.

Tim grinned and liberated his coat out from under Damian. “No you’re right you were just resting your eyes.”

“Shut up, Drake.”

Checking in was remarkably easy. When Tim told the person at the desk that ‘his dad had checked in on the app,’ he was easily handed a couple keys to the room without a single question.

Tim took his time in the shower as Damian lay on one of the two beds in their room, watching the news report. When Tim finally emerged from the bathroom, Damian said, “Much of Colorado is without power right now, and the storm is expected to hit the midwest just as hard.”

“Well isn’t that just dandy,” Tim said as he dried off his hair, “you packed a toothbrush and stuff, right?”

“Yes, Drake, I am not incompetent.”

“Right, whatever. Take a shower if you’re going to, I’m going to sleep. The flight is scheduled for 8 so we need to get out of here absolutely no later than 7, preferably earlier. We’ll have to pass through security again.”

“I hate everything you just said.”

Sighing, Tim set his phone to wake him at 5:45 while he listened to Damian slam the bathroom door.

Being responsible for little children was just so fun.

Next thing Tim knew, his alarm was going off. He sat up to find Damian already awake and watching the Weather Channel on mute. It took blinking for a minute before he could make out the numerous notifications on his phone, but the one he had wanted to find the least was another delay notification.

Now the flight wasn’t going to attempt until 10.

“The storm hit early,” Damian said, glaring at the television as if it were responsible for everything going wrong in their travel.

“Well do you want to sleep in longer or get breakfast?” Tim asked, rubbing at his face. He’d enjoy sleeping more, but he had slept for a good 6 hours. It was certainly more than he was used to.

“Breakfast,” Damian said simply, “I was waiting for you to wake up so we could order room service.”

“We could go get something. There’s time now.”

“Look outside. I’d rather stay here where it’s warm and dry.”

“Right,” Tim said, picking up the room service menu. After he called in their order, he looked at the weather report for the day and went ahead and extended their stay one night. If this storm cancelled all flights leaving Chicago, it would be much more difficult to get a room. Bruce honestly wouldn’t care about spending the money unnecessarily if their flight really did take off at 10.

But of course, it didn’t. At just past 8, they received the notice that the flight was cancelled.

Bruce called again, within minutes of Tim getting the text, to check up on them and assure them that the family wouldn’t do Christmas until Tim and Damian made it to Aspen.

“I’ll come pick you up myself,” Bruce said over speaker, “The weather should be fine tomorrow, I’ll head to the airport and get you boys, okay?”

“Tt,” Damian pouted from where he lay on his bed, arms crossed and glaring at the ceiling, “If you ever suggest I travel alone with Drake again, I will return to Mother.”

“Ouch,” Tim said, “he’d rather live in a ninja death cult than travel with me.”

“Damian,” Bruce sighed, “I’m sorry, but we’ll extend our vacation out until after the New Year, okay? I’ll make it up to you.”

“He’s pretending to ignore you,” Tim said, grinning at the scathing look Damian shot his way for the comment, “he’ll get over it.”

“The pilot wants me to turn my phone off, so I’ll text you when we land. How about we all FaceTime tonight, okay?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, that’ll be good. Dick wanted us to watch The Polar Express tonight, we can always just do it while facetiming. I’m sure I can find a copy somewhere around here.

“Okay, Merry Christmas, boys. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve and I’m stuck in a snowstorm with you,” Damian said once Bruce had hung up, still glaring up at the ceiling.

Shrugging, Tim said, “There’s worse company.”

“Doubtful.”

“Don’t worry. Santa will still deliver your presents to the cabin tonight.”

That finally made Damian sit up, but only to throw a pillow at Tim. “Santa’s not real, Drake.”

“Now you’re ruining my Christmas,” Tim said, laughing, as he caught the pillow, “You’re probably on the naughty list, anyway.”

“Tt.”

“You’re not exactly good,” Tim continued, having fun now at Damian’s expense.

“Shut up, Drake,” Damian snapped, throwing another pillow at Tim.

“Or nice.”

“Shut up!”

“Actually, yeah,” Tim said, laying back on the bed, “there’s no way you’re not on the naughty list, now that I think about it.”

At that, Damian got up from his bed and stormed over to the bathroom, slamming the door as he went. Tim jumped at the loudness of it, then frowned.

He hadn’t meant to push the brat that far. He’d just been teasing. Having fun. Sometimes, Tim forgot for as much as Damian could dish it out, he couldn’t take teasing. At all.

It was easy to forget. Especially when they went a few days without fighting.

‘Help,’ Tim texted Dick, ‘made D mad. Probably crying in bathroom. What do?’

The response was almost instant. ‘You made Damian cry?! Tim, why??’

Tim sighed and responded with, ’I mean, maybe? I haven’t tried to listen in on him or anything. He might just be pouting.’

‘Did you try talking to him?’

‘Why would I do that?’ Tim asked, smiling at himself because he already knew what Dick’s response to that would be.

‘You want to fix it but you don’t want to talk to him.’ And Tim could just see the flat stare Dick would have while delivering that sentence. Hear the deadpan in his voice.

Tim snorted. ‘Precisely. Glad you understand.’

‘Tim.’

‘Yeah, fine. Good big brother, coming up.’

After another minute, Tim finally got up and trudged over to the bathroom door. When he knocked, he could tell something was pressed up against the door, and was willing to bet his entire salary that it was pint sized and 10-years-old.

“Hey D? I was just teasing, you know.”

“Go away, Drake,” Damian hissed from the other side of the door.

So he wasn’t crying, at least. That’s good.

“Uh yep, nope. Can’t,” Tim said, sitting down on the floor outside the door, “The room isn’t big enough.”

Tim could just barely hear Damian’s signature ’tt’ in response.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you,” Tim offered, unsure of where to start. Or how to even do this. He’d been the little brother being talked down, never the older brother doing the talking down.

“Weren’t you?” Damian drawled.

“No, I wasn’t,” Tim said, resting his head back against the door, “I was just teasing you, that’s what brothers do to each other. They tease. You should know, you tease me constantly.”

“I do not tease you.”

Tim rolled his eyes and said, “No, of course not. You just make fun of me in hopes of getting a rise out of me. That’s totally not the definition of tease.”

“Then you admit you were trying to upset me.”

“Fine. I’m sorry, Damian,” Tim said tiredly, and perhaps a little too flippantly in his tone, “I shouldn’t have said that stuff, okay? You’re probably on Santa’s nice list. He’ll bring you presents tonight.”

“Shut up, Drake,” Damian snapped, banging something against the door. His elbow, perhaps. “I do not care about that ridiculous tradition.”

“If you aren’t upset about me saying you’re on the naughty list, then why are you upset?”

“I have been very good the past couple days,” Damian nearly shouted, “and the past year. I have worked so hard to behave myself and be what you and everyone in Father’s family would consider good. But at every turn, everyone, especially you, completely ignores all my actions and efforts and writes me off as a ‘bad person.’ I am sick of it.”

Tim blinked and ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t… writing you off,” he said lamely, “I was just teasing you about Santa. I know you’ve been good.”

“Then why would you say I’m not?” Damian demanded.

“It was just a joke,” Tim said, a bit more forcefully this time, “it’s just what you do at Christmas with kids. You tease them about Santa and being on the naughty list. Did the league not do Santa?”

Damian huffed out an annoyed breath and said, “The league didn’t do Christmas. So no, we didn’t ‘do Santa.’”

“You… didn’t do Christmas?” Tim said, in almost a whisper. He really wasn’t sure if Damian could even hear him. “So wait,” he added, much louder, “is this your first Christmas then?”

“Yes,” Damian bit out before slamming his head back against the door. At least, Tim as pretty sure that’s what Damian hit the door with.

“Does Bruce know this?”

After a long moment, Damian sighed and said, in a much calmer tone, “Maybe. I do not know what Father knows.”

“You should have told him,” Tim said softly, like he was talking to a victim as Robin, “He would have cancelled his meetings in Japan, I bet.”

“I don’t see how it would have mattered. It was my first Christmas here, regardless of everything, and he still left me with you.”

“Well,” Tim said, “In his defense, we were supposed to see him yesterday, so this isn’t entirely his fault.”

“I guess,” Damian said, softer than Tim had ever heard the child’s voice be.

The two of them sat there for another few minutes while Tim just frowned at the closet door in front of him. The annoying closet door that was actually a full sized mirror. So basically, Tim was staring back at himself, looking right at the terrible person he was. That he’d been over the past couple days.

Thinking back over their travel time, Damian really had been good. He’d been trying really hard to keep it that way, even when Tim teased and poked at him, or just flat out ignored him. And all because he didn’t want Bruce angry with him over his behavior. Which, usually wasn’t an issue for Damian. He never seemed to care when Bruce threatened him with grounding.

And Tim had barely acknowledged the effort.

Was Damian just trying to stay on Bruce’s good side because it was Christmas? Because he wanted a happy Christmas, just like how the holiday was always depicted in media?

Damian was only 10, after all, and all he had to go on was television.

Tim felt the bathroom door open behind him and leaned forward a bit to prevent from falling back. Damian stood in the doorway and glared at Tim using the mirror before saying, half-heartedly, “Move, Drake.”

“So if you’ve never celebrated Christmas before,” Tim said slowly as he got to his feet, “that means you’ve never done a Christmas movie marathon.”

“Thankfully,” the little brat drawled as he pushed past Tim into the bedroom.

“What Christmas movies have you already seen?” Tim asked, completely ignoring Damian’s likely feigned disinterest.

Flopping down dramatically onto his bed, Damian said, “What part of ‘first Christmas’ don’t you understand?”

“So you’ve never seen any Christmas movies?” Tim asked in exaggerated horror.

Damian just shrugged.

“Frosty the Snowman?” Tim asked, and when Damian shook his head, he said, “Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer? How the Grinch Stole Christmas?”

“No, Tim,” Damian exasperated, “none of them.”

“Oh my god,” Tim said, “Okay. That’s what we’re doing today. Starting with The Year Without a Santa.”

“Whatever.”

After a quick trip to one of the shops in the airport to purchase candy canes and a ridiculous amount of candy and cookies, because no Christmas movie marathon would be complete without a coma-inducing amount of sugar, Tim started up a playlist of all his favorite Christmas movies on his laptop.

Four movies into the marathon, Damian said from where he lay beside Tim on the bed, “These are ridiculous, you know?”

“I know, isn’t it great?” Tim said, opening another bag of Oreos for them to devour. Alfred would have a heart-attack if he knew they skipped lunch and were going to skip dinner in favor of cookies. Store bought cookies.

“I suppose,” Damian said as he took a couple cookies from the bag between them, “there are worse ways to spend Christmas Eve.”

Tim didn’t even have to look to know Damian was smiling as the opening scene to Elf began to play.

Yes. There were much worse ways to spend Christmas Eve.

Cross posted from AO3.

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