"The taxi's here, hurry up! Come on Megan we don't have all day!” "Sorry mum I was just making sure I had everything."
"I don't care, just get in the car."
Mum and I buckled up our seatbelts. "Is it Heathrow you wanted?" asked the taxi driver.
"Yes please," mum replied. Off we went along the M4. Just 15 miles away was the plane to deliver us to sunny Morocco.
"Please may all passengers boarding the M4C8 proceed to gate 8 to board your plane." “Come on mum, that's us!"
"Wait a minute Megan, let me just grab our suitcase, then we can make our way there!"
Mum grabbed it, then off went mum and me to gate 8. "Tickets please," said the lady dressed in blue. Mum rummaged through her handbag in search of the boarding tickets.
"Red code alert, red code alert," blurred the microphone on top of the gate. "Dangerous weapon alert, everyone please vacate the terminal."
The lady in blue let mum and I go through the gate soon after the alert, when we had found our tickets. We boarded the plane. I was seated in seat 8A, mum by my side.
"Excuse me," Mum said to the lady passing her a cup of tea. "What was the fuss about before with the code red alerts?"
"Well mam, there was a rifle found hiding in between some suits in a suitcase, it’s nothing to worry about."
"Okay, is everything okay now?"
"Yes miss, nothing to worry about. A man is now in police custody."
"Well Megan, I hope we never experience a heart pounding shocking alert like that again but now we can just enjoy our holiday in Morocco," said Mum.