#also also also ill be able to watch the truman show in full!! i need to do that this very second. bc i only saw parts and I NEED IT ALL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greysanatomy-series17eps5 · 4 years

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▷ Grey's Anatomy; Season 17 Episode 5 - (S17E5) - HD 720p

Watch Grey's Anatomy (Season 17 Episode 5) : Full_Episodes ⇨ One way to watch StreamiNG !!! ⇨ Enjoy watching! Series Online Complete! ⇨ Watch Grey's Anatomy Season 17 Episode 5 : Fight the Power Full Online @ https://bit.ly/3n0uNMu

Genre : Drama Air Date : 2020-12-10 Network : ABC Casts : Chandra Wilson, Justin Chambers, Ellen Pompeo, James Pickens Jr.

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Sipnosis

Bailey panics as she hears there has been a surge of COVID-19 cases, knowing she has loved ones in an assisted living facility. Meanwhile, Jackson and Richard team up against Catherine to teach her a lesson, and Teddy continues to try to mend her frayed relationships. After an intense surgery, Jo is uncertain about her future.

Storyline

Meet Meredith Grey. She's a woman trying to lead a real life while doing a job that makes having a real life impossible.

Meredith is a first year surgical intern at Seattle Grace Hospital, the toughest surgical residency program west of Harvard. She and fellow first-year interns Cristina Yang, Izzie Stevens, George O'Malley and Alex Karev were students yesterday. Today they're doctors and, in a world where on the job training can be a matter of life and death, they're all juggling the ups and downs of their own personal lives.

The five interns struggle to form friendships in this most stressful and competitive atmosphere. Meredith's medical ambition is overshadowed by a troubling secret: Her mother, a noted pioneering surgeon, is struggling with a tragic and devastating illness. Cristina is highly competitive and driven, but lacks tact when it comes to bedside manner. Isobel "Izzie" Stevens is the small-town girl who grew up dirt poor and, in spite of paying for her medical career by modeling. Sometimes she cares a little too deeply about her patients. George O'Malley is the warm but insecure boy next door who always manages to do or say the wrong thing at the wrong time. In spite of his attraction to women, he's treated as "just one of the girls". And Alex Karev, the intern the other interns love to have, masks his working class roots with arrogance and ambition.

The interns are guided by an established team of doctors who are determined to shape them into skilled surgeons or break them: Miranda Bailey, a senior resident responsible for training them, is so tough that she's nicknamed "The Nazi". Derek Shepherd is the flirtatious but very capable surgeon who shares a forbidden but undeniable sexual attraction with Meredith. Preston Burke's arrogance is second only to his skill with a scalpel. Overseeing them all is Dr. Richard Webber, Seattle Grace's paternal, but no-nonsense chief of surgery.

Grey's Anatomy focuses on young people struggling to be doctors and doctors struggling to stay human. It's the drama and intensity of medical training mixed with the funny, sexy, painful lives of interns who are about to discover that neither medicine nor relationships can be defined in black and white. Real life only comes in shades of grey.

✌ STREAMING MEDIA ✌ Streaming media is multimedia that is constantly received by and presented to an end-user while being delivered by a provider. The verb to stream refers to the procedure of delivering or obtaining media this way.[clarification needed] Streaming identifies the delivery approach to the medium, rather than the medium itself. Distinguishing delivery method from the media distributed applies especially to telecommunications networks, as almost all of the delivery systems are either inherently streaming (e.g. radio, television, streaming apps) or inherently non-streaming (e.g. books, video cassettes, audio tracks CDs). There are challenges with streaming content on the web. For instance, users whose Internet connection lacks sufficient bandwidth may experience stops, lags, or slow buffering of this content. And users lacking compatible hardware or software systems may be unable to stream certain content.

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This brings me around to discussing us, a film release of the Christian religio us faith-based . As almost customary, Hollywood usually generates two (maybe three) films of this variety movies within their yearly theatrical release lineup, with the releases usually being around spring us and / or fall respectfully. I didn’t hear much when this movie was initially aounced (probably got buried underneath all of the popular movies news on the newsfeed). My first actual glimpse of the movie was when the film’s movie trailer premiered, which looked somewhat interesting if you ask me. Yes, it looked the movie was goa be the typical “faith-based” vibe, but it was going to be directed by the Erwin Brothers, who directed I COULD Only Imagine (a film that I did so like). Plus, the trailer for I Still Believe premiered for quite some us, so I continued seeing it most of us when I visited my local cinema. You can sort of say that it was a bit “engrained in my brain”. Thus, I was a lttle bit keen on seeing it. Fortunately, I was able to see it before the COVID-9 outbreak closed the movie theaters down (saw it during its opening night), but, because of work scheduling, I haven’t had the us to do my review for it…. as yet. And what did I think of it? Well, it was pretty “meh”. While its heart is certainly in the proper place and quite sincere, us is a little too preachy and unbalanced within its narrative execution and character developments. The religious message is plainly there, but takes way too many detours and not focusing on certain aspects that weigh the feature’s presentation.

✌ TELEVISION SHOW AND HISTORY ✌ A tv set show (often simply Television show) is any content prBookmark this siteoduced for broadcast via over-the-air, satellite, cable, or internet and typically viewed on a television set set, excluding breaking news, advertisements, or trailers that are usually placed between shows. Tv shows are most often scheduled well ahead of The War with Grandpa and appearance on electronic guides or other TV listings.

A television show may also be called a tv set program (British EnBookmark this siteglish: programme), especially if it lacks a narrative structure. A tv set Movies is The War with Grandpaually released in episodes that follow a narrative, and so are The War with Grandpaually split into seasons (The War with Grandpa and Canada) or Movies (UK) — yearly or semiaual sets of new episodes. A show with a restricted number of episodes could be called a miniMBookmark this siteovies, serial, or limited Movies. A one-The War with Grandpa show may be called a “special”. A television film (“made-for-TV movie” or “televisioBookmark this siten movie”) is a film that is initially broadcast on television set rather than released in theaters or direct-to-video.

Television shows may very well be Bookmark this sitehey are broadcast in real The War with Grandpa (live), be recorded on home video or an electronic video recorder for later viewing, or be looked at on demand via a set-top box or streameBookmark this sited on the internet.

The first television set shows were experimental, sporadic broadcasts viewable only within an extremely short range from the broadcast tower starting in the. Televised events such as the 944 Summer OlyBookmark this sitempics in Germany, the 944 coronation of King George VI in the UK, and David Sarnoff’s famoThe War with Grandpa introduction at the 9 New York World’s Fair in the The War with Grandpa spurreBookmark this sited a rise in the medium, but World War II put a halt to development until after the war. The 944 World Movies inspired many Americans to buy their first tv set and in 94, the favorite radio show Texaco Star Theater made the move and became the first weekly televised variety show, earning host Milton Berle the name “Mr Television” and demonstrating that the medium was a well balanced, modern form of entertainment which could attract advertisers. The firsBookmBookmark this siteark this sitet national live tv broadcast in the The War with Grandpa took place on September 4, 94 when President Harry Truman’s speech at the Japanese Peace Treaty Conference in SAN FRASEAL Team CO BAY AREA was transmitted over AT&T’s transcontinental cable and microwave radio relay system to broadcast stations in local markets.

✌ FINAL THOUGHTS ✌ The power of faith, love, and affinity for take center stage in Jeremy Camp’s life story in the movie I Still Believe. Directors Andrew and Jon Erwin (the Erwin Brothers) examine the life span and The War with Grandpas of Jeremy Camp’s life story; pin-pointing his early life along with his relationship Melissa Heing because they battle hardships and their enduring love for one another through difficult. While the movie’s intent and thematic message of a person’s faith through troublen is indeed palpable plus the likeable mThe War with Grandpaical performances, the film certainly strules to look for a cinematic footing in its execution, including a sluish pace, fragmented pieces, predicable plot beats, too preachy / cheesy dialogue moments, over utilized religion overtones, and mismanagement of many of its secondary /supporting characters. If you ask me, this movie was somewhere between okay and “meh”. It had been definitely a Christian faith-based movie endeavor Bookmark this web site (from begin to finish) and definitely had its moments, nonetheless it failed to resonate with me; struling to locate a proper balance in its undertaking. Personally, regardless of the story, it could’ve been better. My recommendation for this movie is an “iffy choice” at best as some should (nothing wrong with that), while others will not and dismiss it altogether. Whatever your stance on religion faith-based flicks, stands as more of a cautionary tale of sorts; demonstrating how a poignant and heartfelt story of real-life drama could be problematic when translating it to a cinematic endeavor. For me personally, I believe in Jeremy Camp’s story / message, but not so much the feature.

#Grey's Anatomy #Grey's Anatomy Season 17 Episode 5 #Grey's Anatomy Season 17 Episode 5 Full Epiosdes #series #abc

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get-a-new-lease-on-life · 6 years

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“A New Lease on Life” - #55

55: Absolutes Part IV - The Dead Do Not Rise

Warning: Kimber was a little shit in her last life and she's still a little shit in her new one. At least now she's a little easier to understand. BIGGER WARNING: This chapter has a massive SHTF cliffhanger at the end which will be resolved with the next chapter. If you're cliffhanger sensitive, you might ought'a put off reading this one until the next one's out, which will likely be at least two weeks. The good news? So far that's the only 'probable-cause-for-murder' grade cliffie you should find for a while. It's not just coming out of nowhere, either, it's been in planning since planning for this part of the story began. (FYI: read "since the story first began")

Honestly, I'll be pretty disappointed if no one leaves any angry-reader comments or 'how dare you?!' flames—it would mean I've failed to twang y'all's heartstrings sufficiently. That said, please don't kill me. I have kitties.

All Time Low "Old Scars / Future Hearts," Fireflight "Unbreakable," Survivor "Ever Since the World Began," Three Days Grace "Time of Dying"

Willsdale, Missouri, Aaron Willis' trailer

Day 3, evening

Dying sunlight filtered through the treetops, scattering patchy shadows across the half-dead yard. In the driveway, two women squared off – one tall and svelte with immaculate makeup and neatly styled auburn hair, and one mid-height and curvy with suspicious grey-green eyes. "Kimber Bryant?" the shorter woman demanded of the taller, who nodded. "Glad you could make it. Come on in." Without another word, Amber ducked through the front door of Aaron's home, letting the screen door close behind her.

Out in the yard, Kimber hesitated, clenching one hand painfully on the pair of battered metal dog-tags dangling around her neck. She turned back to her old run-down car—a relic too young to be a classic but too old to be anything but junk—contemplating making a run for it. She well remembered the mess she made of her life before checking out of it, and she remembered just as well the feeling of her own knife being held at her throat. Could she really trust these people? Could she really trust the woman who now lived her life? 'What choice have I got?' she asked herself, shaking her head in aggravated disbelief. Without another moment's hesitation, she stalked up the creaking wooden steps, through the screen door, and into a small, dark parlor that stank of cat-boxes and cheap cherry air freshener.

Behind her, the front door shut with a bang; it took all the courage she possessed to keep from bolting like a spooked cat. Again, she snatched at the dog-tags, forcing herself to meet the eyes of the three others occupying the room. One person was familiar if only in passing—Raphael's twin brother, Donatello, the lanky brains to Raph's brawn. The second was familiar as well, though not nearly as familiar as his counterpart—Aaron Willis, a rough and rugged local with a startling resemblance to Daron Williams. The last face was one she knew as surely as her own. After all, the face was her own, albeit with a new owner…an owner who shared the name she tried to disappear with.

"Kimberly Jane O'Bryan," Donatello greeted as she shifted on her feet, "or should I say, Caitlyn Marie Russel?" Even after two years, Kimber's birth name made her grimace and the name of her new used body made her throat catch.

"Don't call me t'at,"^ she snapped stalking over to the sofa to make herself at home, "or I swear, I'll deck ya. It's Kimber or not'in." Aaron's eyes volleyed back and forth from the three people engaged in a tense standoff, completely lost.

"Is this national talk over the rube's head day?" he demanded with a shrug. "Who's Caitlyn Russel? Who's this? What's she gotta do with anythin' an' why's she here?" Amber rolled her eyes and turned to remind him, but a husky, smoggy voice beat her to it.

"Yer Willis, right?" Kimber asked; Amber exchanged a concerned glance with Donnie over her shoulder. "Kimber Bryant. I'm from Donnie's world, dead an' brought back in a corpse like t'at one." The last was delivered with a sharp thumb-jab in Amber's direction. "T'at's my bawdy^ she's wearin', give or take~ a few pounds. She let it get skinny."

"You call this skinny?!" the other woman demanded, gesturing to her wide hips and full rear.

"I call it depressin',"~ Kimber retorted eyeing the brunette derisively. "Back when I was wearin' t'at, I had an ass t'at could kill an' the kinda hips a guy could really grab onto. How much pukin' did it take ya to lose'em?"~ Amber sputtered in disbelief, struggling to formulate a reply. "So guess ya got my temper but not my smarts, huh?" Donnie dove between them, latching onto the raging brunette before she could dive at the smug redhead.

"Ladies, please!" he protested even as his furious girlfriend seethed—seethed, fumed, and snarled, but made no move to approach her ill-mannered counterpart. "This isn't helping anything!"

"Actually, brain-trust," Kimber contradicted, her tone now surprisingly civil, "it helped jus' enough. If t'at was me, I'd'a~ been at my t'roat by now. T'a bawdy-snatcher's got a better head on'er shoulders t'an I ever did." Amber stared back at Kimber, stunned; the redhead shrugged. "What? First time I ever approached ya I gotta knife at my t'roat, can ya blame me fer bein' a lil' cawtious?"^

"You followed me to the bathroom!" Amber snapped back refusing to meet Donnie's horrified eyes. "From the first day I woke up in your life, I've been harassed, stalked, threatened, beaten, an' nearly killed by yer old pals!" She yanked at the modest neckline of her tee shirt, hissed in pain when she snagged a healing blister on her nails, and showed off a portion of the half-faded and mostly blistered tattoo. "Even now, people see this damned lizard an' wanna beat my arse just for wearin' it! Fer all I knew, you were gonna shank me or something!"

"…I'll go order pizza," Aaron mumbled shuffling out of the room. Donnie gaped after him a moment, turned back to scrutinize the two counterparts trading glares over the coffee table, then came to the same conclusion: they needed some time to clear the air and having company might not help. The genius made his way over to Kimber and tugged her to her feet; amidst sputtered protests, he impersonally patted her down to check for weapons, then pocketed her can of mace.

That done, he turned to repeat the process with Amber but found her voluntarily surrendering arms—or, rather, digging out all her hidden self-defense mechanisms and laying them out on the coffee table for him, all with a betrayed scowl. When she stopped, she smacked her sides, hips, then rear pockets to double check, then crossed her arms in defiance. He wasn't fooled. After dumping her assorted weaponry—a wallet of Donnie-exclusive throwing knives, a can of mace, and a rather dull utility pocket knife—into his cargo pockets, he held out one hand expectantly.

The recognition on her face melted into fear then into defiance—he wiggled his fingers, arching a chastising brow at her—she snorted in refusal. Finally, rolling his eyes at her, he bent down, snatched her by the ankle, and retrieved the final weapon from her boot sheath: the Buck knife she never went anywhere without. When he took his feet again, her scowl was well beyond betrayal and into threats of bodily harm. "Confiscated," he warned pointing the knife handle at her and swept into the kitchen with the women's loot.

"Dang," Kimber muttered staring at his retreating shell. "T'at one was my favorite."

It took the better part of an hour, but finally, the two counterparts were able to communicate with a somewhat civil tongue. Soon after, Donnie and then Aaron drifted back into the parlor armed with pizza and sodas, both watching the spectacle with a mix of morbid curiosity and trepidation. At first, Donnie pulled Amber onto his lap in the expectation he might have to restrain her; soon after, it became clear that the animosity was gone. Even without the threat of spontaneous violence, though, he felt more comfortable with her enfolded in his arms. It helped distract him from the facts that Kimber screwed his brother and that he was unable to save her life.

"To be honest, Kid," Kimber remarked to Amber after all the hashing out was through, "I'm surprised ya ain't after my head. I know what a shithole I made out'a~ t'at life, an' I know what a mess t'at left ya to wake up to." Now that her temper had cooled—or was it Kimber's temper?—Amber had no threats or biting accusations to hurl back.

"Takin' it out on you wouldn't do any good," Amber pointed out without emphasis. Why did so many people insist on calling her kid? She was in her thirties when she died! "We cleaned up your mess—Hun's never gonna walk again an' he's behind bars. Northpaw's dead. Lefty's locked up too, unfortunately…he insisted on taking the fall for Hun's injuries an' he won't see anyone who comes to visit. The Purple Dragons're officially disbanded, sans a few stragglers, an' the jack-wads on Hun's payroll have all been turned in. Daron Williams is in the clear, too, an' workin' off his hacking sentence." Kimber nodded gravely but said nothing. Amber hesitated, wary of overstepping. "Your death wasn't in vain, Kimber…we made sure of it. Everything you fought for, we finished."

For a time, Kimber seemed unsure of what to say; she held her silence tightly, staring a hole through her empty soda can and searching for something, anything. "Ya gotta prawmise^ me somethin'," she said when she finally found her tongue. "Keep an eye on Lefty fer me…Nort'^ was a maniac, but he was also Lefty's brother—he was all Lefty had, especially after Truman…" She trailed off, shook away the memory—a horrifically vivid memory of Lefty showing up on her doorstep still covered in his lover's blood, haunted, empty-eyed, and completely silent. "He's all alone, now," she continued shoving aside the memory. "He needs ya more'n he'll admit…an' Daron's the same…he's prob'ly a mess."

"I promise," Amber replied softly, chancing a weak smile. "Lefty an' Daron have been good to us…good to Mercy an' me, especially. We'll keep watchin' out for'em." The other returned the smile, though hers was more sad than faint.

"Since we've got all that ironed out now," Donnie started, "there's something that's been bothering me about the whole 'new life, new world' bit. Amber, Mercy, and you all received second chances after death, and Mercy's told me a friend of hers has a relative who experienced the same."

"Don't tell me," Aaron grinned, "her mother's father's sister's uncle had a puppy who came back as a goldfish?" The blond got a throw pillow to the face.

"Don't strain yerself, Willis," Amber snarked. "Mercy's workin' for a florist now, an' the owner's daughter has a cousin who got the same thing we did—he died an' someone else woke up in his body." Aaron grinned over at Donnie.

"See? Mother's father's sister's uncle." This time, he ducked the pillow thrown at him. "So yer lookin' fer similarities?" Fist poised to chuck something else at the smartass blond, Amber paused, considered his words, then lowered the empty soda can back to the table and looked to Donnie for confirmation. The mutant nodded.

"Well," Amber recalled aloud, "Mercy an' I remember some similar stuff—the smell of dust, ticking clocks, brightening an' dimming lights, an' a creepy whirring sound…"

"I heard a voice sometimes," Kimber grumbled. "A really frickin' annoyin' one, always whinin' about somet'in. —an' let's not forget t'at freaky empty void," she added in a grumble. "I must'a~ spent a year screamin' into t'a darkness wit'out any response—I din't^ wanna second chance. Not only did t'ey gimme one anyway, t'ey stuck me in some bitch who was cheatin' on'er reserves husband^ wit' a married cab driver." The other three cringed, and Kimber shot Amber a scowl. "Next time ya feel like bitchin' over t'a lizard in my cleavage, remember how bad cabbies stink an' try not to feel too lucky."

"I take it those are her husband's tags?" Aaron asked eyeing the twin metal tags dangling just above Kimber's rack, then purposefully letting his eyes drift a little lower. "Why're ya wearin' 'em? Ya never knew'im."~

"Two reasons." Kimber avoided his eyes, sure her cheeks were pinking underneath her powder. The blond resembled her childhood friend, Daron, to an extent that was disturbing, but already she could tell they had more in difference than in common. Daron would never have openly eyed her like that, and if he had, she probably would've busted his teeth in. Strangely she felt no urge to punch Aaron Willis…she wasn't sure what to make of that. "People expect a widow ta mourn, even if t'is one prob'ly wouldn't'a cared less; wearin' Jordan's tags makes people t'ink twice about askin' me about'im, an' since I hardly know a damn t'ing about'im, t'at's a lifesaver. T'at's only t'a excuse, t'ough."^

She fidgeted, finding herself again drawn to clutch at the tags and rub her thumb over the worn embossed lettering. "I don't know if anyone else is gawnna^ get stuck in t'is body when I leave it…an' I don't know a damn t'ing about what anyone else might be dealin' with." Finally looking up again, defiantly, she held the tags aloft in a pointed gesture then let them fall again. "T'is reminds me ta be mindful—to fix all'a~ t'a ways I used to screw up an' conquer all'a~ my old faults."

Amber winced, leaning into Donnie's shoulder for comfort. After all the time she spent cleaning up Kimber's messes, she never would have expected the other woman to have that much insight or that much heart. Clearly recognizing the brunette's reactions, Kimber sneered at her and lurched to her feet. "Ya may wear my face now, Scotty," she reminded Amber gruffly as she stalked to the front door, "but ya don't know jack shit about me an' ya never will. Stawp judgin' me an' staht cleanin' up yer own messes a'ready."^

"We came here to tie off her loose ends," Donnie warned her, one hand gripping Amber's hip to steady her; she didn't seem to be upset, though, so maybe he was the one who needed steadying. "We came to make sure her family and friends are alright. You know nothing about Amber, either, Kimber, so don't judge her either. She's already made great progress in conquering her faults, and in less than a year; how long have you been here?" Kimber halted, her fingers slipping away from the door handle.

"Two years now," she admitted quietly. "T'at's two years I never wanted."

"Maybe we could get you home for a couple days," Amber offered, leaving Donnie's lap to approach the other woman. "If we could get me here for a few days, surely—"

"NO." Kimber's answer, delivered in a sudden, harsh snap, made Amber step back a pace. "I wasn't s'posed~ ta come here anyway—Dead is dead, ya got t'at?!"

"But—"

"Dammit, I din't wanna come back!" Kimber burst out. Underneath the anger, however, something else came through…hurt. "I din't wanna second chance, not when I fucked up my first one t'at badly! I ain't gawnna screw up t'a natural order'a t'ings any more'n I a'ready have!"^ Even as Kimber seethed, struggled to control her outburst and staunch the burning in her eyes, Amber didn't back down; instead, she reached out, took the other by the shoulder, and uttered a single question.

"What about Raph?" That one question sucked all the hot air out of Kimber in one fell swoop. She turned away, opting to stare through the front windows rather than chance anyone else seeing her brimming eyes.

"What about'im?" she demanded hoarsely, her words thicker than ever. "I'm dead in t'at world, an'e din't want me even when I was alive. T'at's t'a end of it."^

"You might be surprised," Amber countered. "He's…he hasn't handled this well…he blames himself for your death." Kimber snorted in disbelief. "He knows the truth now, too…he knows you…loved him…" This time, Donnie urged Aaron to vacate the room, though they hovered in the kitchen listening in.

"Love." The response confused Amber, and she asked for clarification. "I still love'im, ya bleedin' heart. I never stawped lovin' 'im."^ The admission physically hurt; Kimber choked up. "Not t'at it makes a difference. I just wish…" Before something even sappier could sneak out, she steeled her nerves. "Ya said yer livin' wit' t'a brothers, right?" she demanded, and Amber nodded. "Well…when ya get back, when ya see'im again, just…I guess just…" She trailed off, torn between saying too much and saying too little. A hand on her shoulder startled her back to herself.

"I'll tell him you're safe," Amber promised, "and that you're thinking about him and hope he's well." Unable to even speak, Kimber nodded, gingerly patted the hand on her shoulder with one of her own, then shrugged it off. Amber followed her out to her car, noting absently the stars peeking through the evening fog and gathering clouds.

"Are ya gawnna tell Bert—I mean Bart?"* Kimber's question caught her off guard. "He—he took a big risk hirin' me…t'is gal wasn't qualified, an' I ain't either, but I need t'is job…" She sighed, leaning on the cold hood of the car; Amber joined her, but she didn't argue. "Bitch-face wasted all'er money on'erself an'er stanky cabbie, an' all'a Jordan's money was wiped out by hawspital bills…by t'a time I was released, t'is ol' heap'a junk was all I had, t'at an' t'a lil' bit I could fit in t'a back."^ A sniffle broke through but neither acknowledged it. "I'm livin' in t'a—t'a hotel outside town…an' most'a what I'm makin' is goin' ta pay off t'a homewrecker's debts. I ain't what I used ta be…I'm tryin'a~ straighten up, but…it's just…"

Amber considered the other's words silently, staring up at the night sky overhead. She well-remembered how hard it could be to make it in Willsdale; she remembered struggling to make ends meet even with a decent job and fighting to pay off the monstrous medical bills intent on crippling her the rest of the way. Do we expect these things to change by wakin' up, an' suddenly, there they are? All I need's a starting place an' nothin' ever seemed so hard.* "It's hard," she admitted aloud when it became clear Kimber couldn't. "You put everything you can into doing things right, an' you fight to conquer your own weaknesses…then every now'n then,~ you find out you haven't really made as much progress as you think…an' you wonder when yer going to screw up again." Another choked sniffle snuck through the silence; shiny trails split Kimber's cheeks, running her makeup and gleaming in the moonlight.

"I'm sahrry,"^ Kimber blustered scrubbing her cheeks dry. "Apparently t'a bitch I'm wearin' was a crier. T'at ain't me! I ain't a crybaby, I'm a hothead! I just can't get used ta t'is…"

After almost a year of living in Kimber's body, walking in Kimber's hoochie-boots, and seeing first-hand what Kimber's life was like, Amber was relatively sure she had a solid idea of who Kimber was. Kimber was rude, ill-mannered, obnoxious, and abrasive, and by all rights, was surely not the sort of person anyone would enjoy being with. Still, one thing made no sense…if she was so horrible, why did her friends consistently take her side? Why did Daron defend Kimber when Amber called her callous? Why did Lefty nearly fall apart when he found out Kimber was dead? Why, if Kimber was so horrible, did Raphael tear himself apart, even now, and hold himself accountable for her death?

At that moment, Amber saw a little of herself in Kimber—she saw the heart behind the tattoo and the soul behind the snark—and she was speechless. If she was Mikey, Amber would probably have given his characteristic 'mind blown' gesture; because she was Amber, though, she offered a figurative olive branch.

"I'm not gonna tell Uncle Bart," she promised quietly. "I have a feeling he already suspects it, though, so you may not need to tell him, either. He's…" She paused, searching for adequate words and searched the heavens for familiar patterns. "He's always seen more than most people do," she settled for, "whether something we couldn't believe or couldn't understand. If he hired you, he did so because he knew you needed the job an' you could be trusted."

"Ya sound so sure'a~ t'at," Kimber mumbled, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I am sure of it." Amber winced, scrunched her eyes shut, and reached up to clutch her forehead; all the stress of the day must have triggered a headache. "Listen, Hon, this town's not easy to make it in an' a lotta~ people can't hack it. Even so, a sickly kid who sees things, a crotchety immigrant most people can't understand, an' a half-crippled college dropout all made it in this town…an' if Uncle Bart, my Gran'da, an' I all made it," she grinned at the surprised glance Kimber shot her, "then so will you."

"…half-crippled?" was the only thing Kimber could get out.

"Apparently," Amber teased nudging the other in the side, "I got a wild hair an' jumped in front of a bus. Unless ya ask people who really know the story, though, they'll tell ya I was clipped by a drunken frat-boy in his mama's minivan." Kimber cracked a smile at the joke, although it was a weak one, and slid off the hood. "Talk to Bart," Amber urged following suit. "Tell'im yer livin' in Methlab Motel an' you need'a pick up extra hours to get out.~ He won't let ya down." Let her down? Please. The man would most likely clean all his junk out of the loft over the pub an' insist on renting it to Kimber for peanuts. If Amber knew her family, too, they were sure to take the other woman under her wing, and in a small town like Willsdale, a support circle was everything. At one time, the thought would have horrified Amber; now, however, she realized the truth. If Bart Devon saw Kimber as worth his time, then she wasn't about to hurt their family.

After the two counterparts bid their goodbyes, Amber stood in the yard watching the dust trail from Kimber's car fade in the distance. Again, another twinge of pain lanced through her head; again she clutched the tender skin. Some aspirin was surely in order.

Day 4 – Not long before Dawn

By the time Donnie and Amber woke again, the night's rain was long gone, leaving only mud and fog in its wake. Perhaps because of how long Donnie kept her just on the verge of exploding last night while the rain pounded on the rooftop - the reason for which he never really explained to her - Amber's head was absolutely splitting. Even with that headache, she felt relieved—calm and full of hope.

Once the first pot of coffee was brewed and half-drunk, she gathered a few items together and led Donnie to the back porch. "Come walk with me?" she asked him. He hesitated, glancing back into the kitchen. Already he could feel the fog condensing on his skin in cold dew that slithered down his neck like an unwanted grope. And the coffee…they'd be leaving the coffee behind! Granted, it was lousy coffee, but still…

"I don't know," he admitted tugging at his neck and fighting the whine halfway to his lips. Coffee… "It's still dark and it's pretty marshy…we really need to start working on heading home anyway." She blinked at him, lost. "You only got a week off, remember? Your family's safe, Aaron's safe, and Kimber's not going to be a problem…why risk staying any longer? Wait…why are you smiling like that?" The soft smile was followed up by a chuckle; her smaller hand caught one of his and tugged him down the steps. With every step away from the coffee pot and comfortable kitchen, his heart broke a little more.

"It'll be fine," Amber promised leading him across the yard to the edge of the treeline. "One more day won't hurt." '…especially if I can get rid of this farkin' headache,' she added in her own head. "Dee, you've never hesitated to show me your world." She tossed a teasing grin back at the mutant trailing helplessly behind her. "Now, let me show you mine."

At first sight, the hill she led him up seemed just like any other hill in the area—just a tall, grass-strewn mound of rock and dirt looming over the fog-strewn hollers. The top, however, was nearly vacant of life—no trees, no shrubs, nothing but grass, weeds, and tall dolomite crags. Together, the odd couple lay out a tarp and old horse blanket and settled in to watch the horizon, one listening with half an ear and the other telling him everything she could about the world she called home. Little by little, the sun rose, gleaming pale through the fog; moment by moment, the world below them came to life. By the time bright morning light painted the treetops and burned through the haze, the couple on the bald knob were silent, their words and breath stolen by the sight before them.

"I've seen this before." Donnie's words, delivered in an awed half-whisper, were never meant to pass his lips; even so, they were true—as true as the birdsong awakening all around them, and as true as the warm solidity of the stone beneath them. He scanned the world below—searched for something he couldn't name and found it straight east, just beyond the far edge of the locust grove bordering Aaron's land. A…a pile of rubble? No, that couldn't be right…it was… "That's where your house was, isn't it?" he asked gesturing to the ruin half-taken over by the surrounding land. "You had roses...roses and…dead grass?" That made even less sense, but he remembered it clearly—recalled in great detail the crunchy brown turf set off by lush rosebushes.

Amber was already stunned that he correctly pegged her old home turf. To hear the rest—a reminder that the only flowers she ever managed to grow were roses and her yard was chronically neglected—sent her blood cold. She glanced off in the direction he stared; she couldn't see any roses remaining and the whole area was already becoming overrun by locust saplings and weeds. "Aaron told you?" she attempted, but the genius shook his head, visibly frustrated and reaching for something he couldn't quite see.

He knew what he remembered—he remembered seeing that very view, countless times in countless dreams. He remembered teasing Amber about her perpetually dead yard and fooling himself he could smell her roses a mile away. So many dreams happened here, on this very hill. Childhood games of hide-and-seek amongst the craggy rock formations…lazy summer afternoons sunning themselves on the grass…rainy days stretched out on that same old crazy quilt, bare to the sky and tangled beyond hope…he knew this place.

"So no one told you," Amber summed up startling Donnie from his thoughts. "You must've figured it out on your own—yer bright like that." She cast a wary smile at him. "Course, yer also talkin' to a dead gal. Stranger things have happened, right?" She sobered. "The school's been rebuilt," she admitted. "Aaron's takin' me by later to see it…I'm afraid of what I'll find, but I've gotta go…I just have to." Donnie had no answer; he couldn't break himself from the thoughts spinning through his head—memories, dreams, hopes and wishes and fears…

"Do you believe in destiny?" The question came in a near-whisper but struck with the impact of a scream.

"Huh?" The moment it was out, Amber cringed; so much for effective communication.

"Destiny," Donnie repeated leaning back on his palms and taking in the scenery below. "You know, the idea that some aspects and events in life are predetermined and out of our control…like…" His throat worked around the words trying to stay behind his teeth. "The odds that we would ever meet—two people from entirely different worlds—was it pure chance, or do you think it could be—"

"Fate?" Amber finished for him with a slight frown; his eyes rolled aside, meeting hers askance. "I don't believe in chance or coincidence," she admitted. "I've always believed everything happens for a reason even if we never know that reason…but on the other hand, I don't believe in fate or destiny either. With fate, there's no free-will; with no free-will, what's the point in ever aspiring to anything beyond your lot?"

"That makes no sense," Donnie deadpanned. "If everything happens for a reason, there has to be a predetermined reason for everything – that's an argument for destiny. If there's no preset path we follow, then everything's just up to the roll of the dice and may not have a purpose. You contradicted yourself completely."

"Maybe," she admitted with a teasing smile and turned to lean back across his legs. "Maybe not. Some folks look at life like reading a novel, some see it like writing a novel, an' some of us see it like one of those crummy choose-your-own-adventure books." Donnie blinked down at her, thought it over, but still didn't follow. "I believe that we write our own stories but they can sometimes take us in directions that make no sense to us until after we've passed them. In the moment, we may see no further than 'the market pays better than the gas station' or 'the gas station is closer to home' but those decisions will shape our futures. If you're working at the market, you won't be working the gas station when it's robbed, but if you're working at the gas station, you might meet a hot trucker an' get hitched in Vegas."

"You're a nut," Donnie teased ruffling her hair.

"Takes one to know one," she retorted with all the maturity of an eight-year-old, then her eyes softened. "Besides…if meeting you was my destiny, that would take out all the impossibility—all the wonder and mystery. No matter whether I died in utero or died in a nursing home with my knockers at my knees, we would have found each other no matter what." The genius shuddered at the visual but said nothing. "We were a shot in the dark, Dee," she reminded taking his hand. "We weren't just a checkmark on some celestial to-do list…we're a miracle." A slow smile crossed his face and his eyes softened—proof she managed to calm whatever nerves were bothering him before. "What brought that up anyway?" she asked. A streak of muddy brown followed the smile; he avoided her eyes.

"N-No reason," he insisted to no avail. "I was just…just thinking about…uh…string theory?"

"Whatever ya say, Speccy…whatever ya say."

Day 5 – after Noon

The back door drifted shut with a bang. In the parlor, familiar racket emitted from Aaron's TV; onscreen, some nameless boss resembling an unholy amalgamation of Jabba the Hutt and The Incredible Hulk stomped around a battered landscape in pursuit of…a little girl with pink pigtails? Donatello scratched his head. Gamers were an odd bunch.

"Where's Amber?" he asked Aaron. Before the mutant left for the hike he just returned from, Amber was still asleep—trying to sleep off the headache she never kicked the day before. "Still sleeping?" Aaron's character exploded into a spray of blood and gore, triggering a frustrated groan.

"I guess," the blond answered as the loading screen cycled. "She never came inside, so I figure she's probably still sleepin'. Why?" Donnie glanced pointedly at the clock by the TV on his way to the back door. "Shit, I'm s'posed to be leavin' for work in an hour…lost track'a~ time." Resigned to tackling the boss again later, Aaron saved, quit, and shut down his Playstation, and ducked outside to check on Amber. Instead, he found the shed door standing wide open, Amber motionless on the mattress, and Donatello frantically trying to rouse her. "What's—"

The question fell short—Amber wasn't just still, she was too still—too still and too pale—stranger still, a dark, nasty bruise sprawled from her cheek up to the loose hair fallen over her face.

One man frantically checked her vitals—BP dropping, pulse faint, temperature below normal—the other scrambled back against the wall, refusing to believe what he was seeing. Amber was sleeping—she was just sleeping, she had to be! Frustrated and afraid, Donnie yanked his goggles down for a closer look…

He stilled, falling back on his heels his face contorting in open horror. "What?" Aaron demanded, rushing to his side. "What'd'ja—"~ Donnie lifted a hand to her face, gingerly pulling her hair away from her forehead. Aaron's stomach lurched—he bolted out the door, retching onto the grass.

In the shed, Donnie stared through the impossible sight previously hidden—a compound fracture, bleeding and bruised. Fractured—the parietal plate was visibly crushed inward—shards of gleaming white perforated her skin. Donnie's fists clenched, his knuckles pale against the canvas of his trousers. Her skull was fractured…her brain was hemorrhaging…this was surely the wound that killed her once, the fatal injury that brought her to his world. This…this couldn't be happening… Heedless of the blood slicking her skin, he tenderly brushed a fallen lock of hair—a blue streak purpled from blood—behind her ear, tracing along the edge of the injury…an echo of the injury that killed her.

Just like it was yesterday, he remembered the day he brought her to his father—remembered how the slightest touch to her brow made her hiss in pain even with no injury there—remembered his father relating to him and his brothers the sudden, grisly way she died—remembered her confessing she often woke with a throbbing pain, a psychogenic echo from her previous life. She died in this world…the dead do not rise…he should never have brought her here.

'We write our own stories.'

At the time, he was distracted by other things—memories of dreams, knowledge he shouldn't have, sunlight highlighting the curve of her jaw and shimmering in her eyes…

'We're a miracle.'

Maybe…no surely…perhaps…

Right as Aaron shuffled back into the shed, Donatello went unnaturally still—his trembling stopped and his eyes hardened. Hands steady, supporting her head on his thigh, he eased Amber onto her side, tugged at the waistband of her night slacks, and exposed a small, blotchy patch of brown skin—a faint birthmark right under the waistband of her briefs. For whatever reason, that mark seemed to give him answers—answers and determination. As though in agreement, her eyelashes fluttered, her eyes shifting behind their lids—a sign of brain activity if he ever saw one. "There's still time—Need chalk, charcoal, something I can draw with!" The demand spewed out at twice his normal pace sparked an equally rapid response. In a matter of moments, the seals of the portal sprawled along the inside wall in messy vivid spray paint; another moment of incantation and they gleamed with unearthly light. Without a moment's waste, Donnie hoisted Amber into his arms, carefully cradling her head; without ever looking back, he bolted into the emptiness.

Completely lost and even more afraid, Aaron stared blankly at the yawning portal in the wall of his shelter. It seemed familiar—he saw something like this before, perhaps years ago on TV… With a shout of frustration, he smacked himself on the back of the head for wasting time and took off in pursuit. Fuck it…he lost Amber once, he wasn't going to just give up on her again! Even as he sprinted toward the faint light at the end of the tunnel, he broke a long-held conviction—he gave in to a habit he always believed pointless…

For the life of a friend, he prayed.

...and with that I’m going to sit back, relax, and wait for the angry-reader comments to come in. Really lookin’ forward to it, don’t let me down!

UP NEXT: The Choice Between Darkness and Light

Chapter List

Notes:

* Bert Devonne / Bart Devon – Recall that though Amber and Kimber are essentially the same person in two different worlds, Kimber's family and Amber's family are markedly different. Kimber recognized Bart Devon, as he's the counterpart of her estranged uncle Bert Devonne.

** "Do we expect these things to change by waking up and, suddenly, there they are? And all I need's a starting place and nothing ever seemed so hard." – from "Whatever I Fear" by Toad the Wet Sprocket. That tune is a pretty good depiction of the mistrust and wariness Amber and Kimber have for one another.

WORDS

^ Jersey/Backstreet, ~ Midwestern Twang or general

^T'— in a word – this word has a th- in it but she's dropped the h. ^T'a – the ^Ta – to, note the lack of an apostrophe. ^Bawdy – body ~Words ending with -in' – this word ends with –ing. ~Lose'em – lost them. (no, Amber's not really skinny, she's somewhere between curvy and overweight. Kimber's just intentionally being an asshole. ~I'd'a – I would have ^Firs' time I ever approached ya I gotta knife at my t'roat, can ya blame me fer bein' a lil' cawtious? – The first time I ever approached you, you stuck a knife at my throat – can you blame me for not trusting you? ~Out'a – out of ^Prawmise – promise ^Nort' – Northpaw, or rather, Norton Jackson. ~Must'a – must have ~Din't – didn't ^Cheatin' on'er reserves husband – Caitlyn was married to a man in the army reserves and was having an affair behind his back. ~Wearin'em / knew'im – wearing them / knew him ^People expect a widow ta mourn, even if t'is one prob'ly wouldn't'a cared less; wearin' Jordan's tags makes people t'ink twice about askin' me about'im, an' since I hardly know a damn t'ing about'im, t'at's a lifesaver. T'at's only t'a excuse, t'ough. – People expect a widow to mourn even though this widow wouldn't have cared; wearing Jordan's dog-tags makes people reluctant to ask me about him, and since I hardly know a thing about him it's a lifesaver. That's just the excuse, though – there's another reason, too. ^Gawnna – going to ~All'a – all of ^Stawp judgin' me an' staht cleanin' up yer own messes a'ready. – Amber honestly kinda deserves this. "Stop judging me for my faults and start fixing your own." ~S'posed – supposed ^I ain't gawnna screw up t'a natural order'a t'ings any more'n I a'ready have! – I refuse to screw up the natural order of things any more than I already have! ^I'm dead in t'at world, an'e din't want me even when I was alive. T'at's t'a end of it. - I'm dead in that world, and he didn't want me even when I was alive. That's the end of it. ^I still love'im ya bleedin' heart. I never stawped lovin'im. – I still love him, you sappy moron. I never stopped loving him. (Did you really see that going any differently? Raph's a heartbreaker, really.) ^Bitch-face wasted all'er money on'erself an'er stanky cabbie, an all'a Jordan's money was wiped out by hawspital bills…by t'a time I was released, t'is ol' heap'a junk was all I had, t'at an' t'a lil' bit I could fit in t'a back. – Caitlin wasted her money on herself and the cabbie she was cheating with. All of Jordan's money was spent on hospital bills. (Recall that Kimber was in the hospital and woke from a coma to be told 'your husband didn't make it.') By the time I was discharged, this crappy car was all I had to my name, just the car and what little I could fit in the back. (Kimber spent a good while living out of her car.) ~Tryin'a – trying to ~Every now'n then – every now and then, occasionally ^I'm sahrry – I'm sorry. You can see especially here that Kimber still has a long way to go before she's completely eradicated her assumed accent; since she developed it at a young age, she may never be able to completely get rid of it. ~Sure'a – sure of ~A lotta – a lot of ~Tell'im yer livin' in Methlab Motel an' ya need'a pick up extra hours to get out. – Recall Casey, April, and Amber's visit to New Willsdale, when Amber argued against them staying at the motel in Willsdale? This is what she based it on. Basically "tell him where you live and ask for more hours—he'll help you out." What Amber’s not saying, here, is that Bart’s likely to increase Kimber’s wages as well as her hours. ~Track'a – track of ~What'd'ja – what did you

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tamboradventure · 4 years

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5 Myths About Booking a Flight that You Need to Ignore

Posted: 6/1/2020 | June 1st, 2020

Let’s talk about cheap flights. We all know airlines are out to screw us over — and no one wants to be the person who gets stuck paying the highest fare. That’s why we spend hours upon hours in front of the computer, researching articles on airfare, and trying to game the system like we’re attempting to outsmart a used car salesman.

I’ve written about finding a cheap flight before — and even my process for booking a flight — but today I want to talk about some persistent and inaccurate myths about booking a flight that have stuck around through simple inertia and lazy journalism.

There’s a lot of articles out there that will list “secret hacks” that will save you thousands. “If you book a flight on a Tuesday during a blood moon while standing on one leg, you’ll get the cheapest flight possible!” Ok, that’s an exaggeration but I read a lot of articles that are straight-up inaccurate and outdated that, today, I want to explain which “rules” are straight-up lies so you don’t follow them, save hours of time, and still end up with a cheap flight!

MYTH #1: You Should Search Incognito

This is the worst myth of them all. It makes sense. We all know that every company in the world uses cookies to track our online habits. So why wouldn’t airlines track us? There’s a belief that airlines are watching our browsing habits and then raising ticket prices when they see us looking at the same route(s) over and over again.

Lots of websites will tell you to use a browser’s “incognito mode” to avoid this. Turn them off, stop being tracked, and trick the system, right?

Except this is not true at all.

There’s no evidence that airlines behave that way and numerous studies by booking companies have shown there is no variance in pricing when you use incognito mode.

And, typically, when you abandon your cart, businesses discount prices to get you to complete your purchase not raise them higher.

According to Scott of Scott’s Cheap Flights, one of the most popular bargain-flight websites,

“There’s no evidence that airlines are showing you a different price based on your cookies. We are mistaking airfare volatility for a Truman Show–esque interpretation that the airlines are out to raise fares on us. Airfare is constantly changing, often by the hour if not by the minute these days. When a flight you’re looking at goes up in price, there’s a temptation to think that it’s because of your cookies, but Occam’s razor is that the price went up because airfare is constantly changing.”

They searched the same Denver to London flight 100 times in a row, and on the first search and the hundredth search, the price stayed exactly the same.

Another study by CheapAir found the same thing.

The average economy fare changes 61 times each day. Airlines use sophisticated software to change prices based on demand. Additionally, they put their inventory not just on their own website but also on hundreds of third-party websites so millions of people are looking at the same flights at any given moment. The system is constantly updating itself based on ticket sales and demand.

After all, there are only so many seats on a plane. You just can’t add more!

That’s why prices change.

Searching in incognito mode is simply not going to help you find a cheaper flight.

MYTH #2: It’s Better to Book on a Tuesday

Back in the day, most airlines used to drop flight deals on Tuesdays and that would lead to other airlines following suit. Thus the old adage to book on Tuesdays.

But Hopper, a popular cheap-flight app, analyzed the data and found that only 1.6% of flights were cheaper on a Tuesday.

These days, as I mentioned above, airlines use dynamic pricing and artificial intelligence to constantly change their pricing. The algorithms consider a variety of factors: historical and current demand, seasons, weather, particular events, etc.

According to Scott,

“Some websites still claim there is a single predictable time each week when fares are cheapest. When airfare was first sold online, airlines and online travel agencies would often load their fares just once a week, say, Tuesday at 2pm. There were a limited number of the cheapest fares available, and so if you were one of the first people to book right after the new fares were loaded, you really could get a great deal. Nowadays airfare is changing by the hour if not by the minute, driven less by humans plugging in fares each week and more by complex computer algorithms.”

So there’s no “best day to book.” Waiting for a Tuesday likely won’t save you any money.

Book your flight on whatever day you want.

Myth #3: There is a Perfect Time to Book

Airfares don’t actually change that dramatically. Until about 21 days before a flight, they are pretty steady. I remember talking to the Google Flights team once and they found there’s only typically a $50 difference between the highest and lowest price point.

That doesn’t mean it couldn’t swing more radically. As I said, airlines change prices based on a lot of factors. Sometimes that $50 swing could be $100 or $200 — but, barring an event that drives up demand, airfares tend to be in a narrow range up to 21 days before a flight.

After that, thanks to antiquated rules, the system thinks that a “last-minute” flight — three weeks away or less — must mean a business traveler and so fares rise. (So never book less than 21 days before leaving!)

Generally speaking, the best time to book a flight is about 2-3 months ahead. Why?

Most people book about 2-3 months before they go away. If you’re a family going on vacation, you don’t just do it on a whim. You take time off work and plan months in advance. So airlines know that and about 2-3 months before a trip is generally when prices reach equilibrium between supply and demand.

MYTH #4: Websites Can Predict Prices

Websites that predict prices are just taking an educated guess based on historical pricing. Don’t put too much stock in these predictions. The past is not prologue and a spike in demand or a concert or other event can change the price of a ticket outside its historical range.

I like the price meter on Google Flights because it lets me know the general historic price range of this fare. But any website that says “wait to book because prices are going to go down” is full of shit.

Airfare is incredibly volatile. There are a limited number of seats on planes and dozens of variables — from overall economic conditions to the price of oil to competition from new budget airlines to the difficulty of predicting travel interest for a specific flight 11 months from now. No one knows what the future holds. The recent pandemic is proof that modeling the future doesn’t work.

These websites have no idea what future airfare will be and are just guessing.

As Scott echoes:

“It’s important to distinguish between when is cheapest to travel and when is cheapest to book. We know a lot about when it’s typically cheapest to travel: January through March and September through November. That’s not to say there are never cheap flights in June. Think of it like an NBA game: just because one team is favored doesn’t mean there’s never an upset. This is all to say that anyone who claims to have cracked the code and be able to predict with certainty whether a flight six months from now will go up or down in price is doing you a disservice.”

MYTH #5: There is One Best Booking Website

Why do you see prices vary from website to website? Third-party websites often buy tickets in bulk and the prices depend a lot on what booking class they’ve purchased (usually they buy the cheapest and most restive fares which is why those flights are always unchangeable). Plus, again, thousands of people could be booking at once and so as the cheaper seats go, the prices go up!

That’s why, while I love Skyscanner and Momondo, I check lots of other websites before I actually book.

But, while I love them, remember: there is no single best website out there for flights.

Prices vary among all these platforms. That’s why you have to search multiple websites and meta-search engines.

There’s no single best booking website, only the best one at the time of booking.

***

Any article that claims to show you the “secret” to cheap airfare is probably too good to be true — because if it worked so well, airlines would have put an end to it a long time ago. You can’t outsmart the airlines. You can only bend the system to your advantage.

There’s simply no magic bullet to finding cheap airfare.

As much as we all want there to be one.

Book Your Trip: Logistical Tips and Tricks

Book Your Flight Find a cheap flight by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines, because they search websites and airlines around the globe so you always know no stone is being left unturned.

Book Your Accommodation You can book your hostel with Hostelworld as they have the largest inventory. If you want to stay somewhere other than a hostel, use Booking.com, as they consistently return the cheapest rates for guesthouses and hotels. I use them all the time.

Don’t Forget Travel Insurance Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. It’s comprehensive protection in case anything goes wrong. I never go on a trip without it, as I’ve had to use it many times in the past. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. My favorite companies that offer the best service and value are:

World Nomads (for everyone below 70)

Insure My Trip (for those 70 and over)

Looking for the best companies to save money with? Check out my resource page for the best companies to use when you travel! I list all those I use — and they’ll save you time and money too!

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