“So, give me the play-by-play one more time.”
“I already told you what happened. Six times. I just need some space right now.”
Open on Mercedes and Jorge on an American Airlines flight from LaGuardia.
Jorge: Uh, Merce. Kind of difficult when you're in the window seat and I'm in the aisle.
Mercedes: (begrudgingly) I know.
Mercedes nudges the passenger next to her who was already sleeping. Moments later, he fell asleep in her lap. Jorge fails in his attempt to hide his laughter as Mercedes is damn near horrified. She says “help me” wordlessly to Jorge who simply shrugs his shoulders. Mercedes tries lifting the passenger up, shaking him, even starling him, but nothing worked.
Mercedes: It's official: this is the airplane flight from hell.
Jorge: You mean this is the worst flight you've ever been on?
Mercedes: There has been worse, believe it or not.
Flashback to 2010. Mercedes first trip to Africa. She and Jorge are sitting at the airport bar in the concourse area, awaiting their flight. Mercedes has a Shirley Temple. Jorge takes his time, looking up at the menu, not quite sure on what to get.
Jorge: OK. I know what I want.
Bartender: (skeptically): Are you sure this time, sir?
Jorge: You bet. I'll get a bomb shot.
At the word “bomb shot”, a two people within earshot are quickly alarmed.
Person 1: Oh, my God! There's a bomb!
Person 2: What?
Person 1: That guy over there has a bomb!
The news spread and the airport is in chaos as Jorge and Mercedes looks on.
Mercedes: (half turns to leave) I have to go to the ladies room. I'll be right back.
THREE HOURS LATER.
Mercedes: (sitting in a jail cell, crying) What did I do to deserve this? Why?
Jorge leans with his foot against the wall, shaking his head.
Jorge: Cheer up, Merce. It's not that bad. The least that can happen to us is being deported.
Mercedes gives him a withering glance.
Mercedes: No. Well, in case of that, there would be only one person going on that boat, Jorge. It won't be you, BECAUSE YOU WOULD ALREADY BE SIX FEET UNDER!”
A deep, low sound comes from one cell over. A resident prisonmate puts his lips to a harmonica and plays a tune before he begins singing.
Prison-mate: I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole.
No-one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried...
Mercedes and Jorge exchanged looks before looking straight ahead at the cell doors.
And we're back.
Jorge: Well, how was I supposed to know the bo...the “b” word in the airport was still a sensitive issue? Christ, it was the name of the cocktail!
A moment's pause.
Jorge: You know, Merce. I'm kind of surprised you took me along after, well, you know, the Egypt thing.
Mercedes: Well, as the Good Book says, you should forgive others, and I forgive you, Jorge.
Jorge: You never told me why you're taking me with you to the Ivory Coast.
Mercedes: Don't you want to see your own sister win back her tag team titles that she lost a month ago? Relax. Getting there is only half the fun.
Jorge: I'm afraid to ask what the other half is. So, um, about those two opponents you got lined up for Sunday?
Mercedes: The proudly dumb one and the one probably curling beer cans?
Jorge: Yeah, those two. Do you think -
Mercedes: Stop right there, Oh ye of little faith. I don't think. I know me and Traci have those titles in her sights. Those two just got lucky that night.
Jorge: Um, you got pinned in the middle of the ring?
Mercedes: They got lucky a month ago. Luck isn't going to help them Sunday. Trust me, me and my tag partner got this, and we will leave as two-time Bombshell Tag Team Champions.
Jorge: (shrugs) If you say so. Just that, you know, they scare the hell out of me, especially the girl with the guns. Oh, well. Might as well be prepared. What did you bring with you?
Mercedes: (holding up an iPad) Music? You?
Jorge: Even better. I've brought along some board games, playing cards, and dominoes to play with. This is going to be one long flight. Gotta have something to do or I'm going to be suffering from bordom-induced coma.
Mercedes stares back at her brother before lowering her face into her hand. Yup, this was going to be the beginning of what would be the week from hell. Will she be able to survive it is the question. The male passenger, who has since woken up from his nap turns to Mercedes, waving at her, which in turn weirded her out.
As the plane flies over the majestic Atlantic Ocean under the guise of sunrise, our scene fades to black.
Mercedes: Did you just throw-up on me!
