Thomas drove down to Prestwick. His heart raced. He didn't like flying and he never did like it. He assumes that it all stemmed from his childhood. His father, being head of a massive corporation, owned and piloted his own private jet. When Thomas and his father were flying, the landing gear failed. They both survived but Thomas, severely traumatised.
He took deep breaths. "Calm down, Thomas," he said to himself, "What are the odds you'll die, like eleven million to one, right?" He arrived at the airport. He had calmed down slightly. Thomas hesitantly, entered the terminal. The ethos was creepy. Not normal. Before he knew it, he had checked in and got through security. He noticed a Wetherspoon's pub. "Okay, I'll go and have a couple of beers, phone Kate and by that time, it'll be time to board. He did so. Sat down, ordered a beer and phoned his fiancé.
"Hey honey, can't wait to see you!"
"Just 10 hours and then we'll be together"
"I know, love you"
"Love you too, bye."