After the chaos on the plane and whatever emotional tornado Rory was currently riding back to Stars Hollow, things felt a bit calmer on our end. We were back to enjoying our final days in New York City.
The next morning, we all headed out to explore more of Manhattan. Evelyn had taken the liberty of booking a private city tour—one of those open-top buses. She insisted we see "the important stuff" before heading off to Barbados.
Charlie sat beside me on the top deck, sunglasses on, breeze in his hair, grinning from time to time like he'd just come from a victory lap.
Alan sat on the other side of me, squinting into the sun, and eventually leaned toward us. "Okay, what the hell did you two do last night?" he asked, clearly sensing something.
"Nothing," I replied quickly.
Charlie nodded in agreement, way too cheerfully. "Yeah, Alan, we were just enjoying vacation. You know, sightseeing, good food, cultural enrichment..."
"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England," Alan muttered, eyeing us both suspiciously.
Charlie gave a mock bow and said, "Yes, Your Majesty."
I leaned toward Charlie and whispered with a grin, "Always knew he'd go with Queen instead of King."
Charlie choked back a laugh, shaking his head while Alan, oblivious, kept grumbling about sunscreen and overcharging New York cafes.
As the tour continued, we passed Central Park, the Met, Times Square—everything felt cinematic. I watched the crowds, the architecture, the sheer pulse of the city. For someone who never got to see this in his first life, New York was living up to every expectation.
And in that breeze, high above the chaos on the double-decker bus, I couldn't help but smile.
Yeah... this city never asks too many questions.
Exactly the kind of place a kid like me needs.
The next couple of days went by in a blur of museums, shopping, and food. Judith had us doing walking tours, Evelyn kept trying to drag us into designer boutiques, and Alan somehow managed to fall asleep during a Broadway show—which Charlie loudly pointed out to everyone in our row.
We took photos at the top of the Empire State Building, ate hot dogs from a street cart, and even caught a Yankees game. It felt like one of those rare stretches of time where everything just worked.
But as the final night rolled in, there was a shared unspoken understanding among us: vacation phase one was coming to a close.
The next morning, bags were packed and checked. We found ourselves at JFK Airport, standing at our gate, passports in hand.
"Barbados, here we come," Charlie said, stretching his arms over his head.
Alan looked at his boarding pass like it was the golden ticket. "I just want a hammock and no screaming children nearby."
"I make no promises," I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.
Evelyn, already in line for priority boarding, glanced back at us. "Try not to embarrass yourselves in the Caribbean. It's not like Manhattan where nobody cares."
Charlie leaned toward me with a grin. "She says that like we haven't already embarrassed ourselves in multiple countries."
As we moved into the boarding line, I glanced ahead—and did a double take.
Standing just a few feet in front of us, casually chatting and laughing, were six very familiar faces: Ross, Chandler, Monica, Rachel, Phoebe, and Joey.
I blinked again to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. But no, it was really them.
And they weren't alone.
Next to them was Professor Wheeler, a stunning black woman I recognized from an academic article I'd once read. And beside Phoebe was David—the PhD guy she was dating.
I leaned over to Charlie. "Is that...?"
He followed my gaze, then raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'll be damned."
Charlie smirked. "Should we say hi?"
Before I could respond, Charlie was already making his way toward them, dragging me by the shoulder.
"Excuse me," Charlie said smoothly as we approached. "I just had to say—you all look exactly like you stepped out of a sitcom."
Oh he doesn't know how ironic this phrase was (and for both ways).
Monica and Chandler turned with raised eyebrows, then smiled as they recognized us.
"Hey! You were at the wedding!" Joey said, pointing.
Then Alan caught up to us, clearly not wanting to be left out of the moment. He stepped forward and said cheerfully, "Hey, you were at the wedding too—the one where the groom said the wrong name for the bride, right?"
The group fell into an immediate, collective silence. A very awkward silence
All eyes subtly shifted toward Ross, who had been lingering slightly behind the group, his face frozen mid-smile.
Alan's grin slowly faded. "Oh... oh no."
"Way to go, Alan," Charlie said dryly, patting him on the shoulder with exaggerated sympathy.
Ross coughed into his hand, eyes avoiding everyone.
Rachel gave a small, tight-lipped smile. Monica elbowed Chandler to say something, but even he couldn't find the words.
"Anyone else want coffee?" Joey asked suddenly, trying to redirect. "I could go for a coffee."
"Great idea," Phoebe said, linking her arm with David. "Let's get a round before boarding."
Crisis awkwardly averted... maybe.
I cleared my throat and said just loud enough, "I did say my dad was a lot like Ross."
Charlie and Chandler barely suppressed a laugh. Alan just shot me a look.
"Not helping, Jake," he muttered under his breath.
"Wasn't trying to," I replied with a shrug.
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