Yes, and with time to spare.

I think that I am going to take the late Bullet Train from now on. But instead of sinking into a sense of failure and depression, I glance at the driver, who is eagerly looking up through his sunroof. I have never drove anything in my before but I do remember my father saying something that people who drive and travel in the E-Highways have to be extra cautious. I decide to try my luck in asking the driver something I've always wanted to know.

"Isn't this taxi an RLP Vehicle*?" I ask the driver directly.

"Why do you think I'm always looking up? Dammit! I can never find the entrance," he actually yells at me. "Wait a minute, wait a minute, if I could only time it right...I'd put on my harness if I were you," he manages to tell me. I forgot to put on my harness which if a felony if a passenger doesn't wear it. As I buckle it to my body and adjust it to my body size, I immediately see the driver take his hand and guide it to a chrome lever, which is the only shiny handle on the driver's center console, right next to the handbrake. He pulls it vigorously and the taxi shakes.

At this moment, unseen by my eyes but seen by fellow pedestrians and on-lookers, is the short transformation of the taxi. I've seen once before when I was three years younger when walking with my mother. Loud it can be and also as silent as a whisper, two pairs of fins poke out from the taxi's front and rear fenders. The repulsor-lift wheel wells* expand like bread starting to bake and rise. Lastly two lights, one red and one green turn on. They are located usually on the side mirrors and below the headlights and the taillights.

Seconds after a few whirring noises are heard and then subside the taxi slowly, and then speedily rises vertically. I clench to my harness as the taxi rises above the usual skyline. From inside, several monitor guide the driver to safely enter the speeding rush hour of the E-Highway. A countdown is heard and the taxi launches onto the highway.

"What you thought you would be late?" the driver smirks.

"No, well maybe a little," I reply, and both the driver and I share laughs.

From this height I can see the morning skyline of Neo-Amsterdam. I can clearly see the three locations of the massive Dome Prefectures. The closest is the Manhattan Dome, where my mother and my sisters lives, offshore of the Manhattan Island. I can also see the numerous hovering highways above and in between the buildings of Neo-Amsterdam.

Ten minutes and numerous through-building passes later, I see the Popular Neo-Amsterdam Tram Station* and the arriving and departing Bullet Trains below the taxi. A minute passes before the taxi itself starts to sink to the streets. I can see that the driver is more meticulous at this part, since people tell me launching is more easier than landing. Fortunately for my driver, he lands safely into the Tram Station's terminal. Luckily the terminal is wide enough not to be crowded by old and new cars alike. The taxi hovers into a empty parking spot alongside the Station and the driver puts the car in park but leaves the taxi's humming engine on. He gets out and opens the trunk, but neglects to open my door. I don't wait for him, so I open my door and set my sneakered feet onto the cold platform. I get my bag with me and wait for the driver to unload the rest of my luggage. Fortunately for him, I didn't pack much. The driver eagerly closes the trunk after he gets the last bag out and immediately goes back to the driver's seat. I quickly run to the open passenger window and give him to money.

"$37.75, right?" I ask the price of the fare.

"Eighteen," he says but I don't understand him. "Your eighteen right?"

"Uhm, yes," I stammer.

"When did you turn?" he presses on.

"Last month..." I say rather slowly.

"Hmm," he looks onto my body and then back to my face, "Free of charge," he says quickly.

"Free?" I ask in a low, almost inaudible voice. He doesn't reply. Instead he stares at me in a ominous look but quickly smiles with a fat grin on his face. He immediately leaves in his taxi without saying another word.

Astonished, but glad that I didn't have to pay the driver. I take my luggage and roll them into the ticket line. Seeing that my mother already preordered the ticket as a one-way trip to Neo-Francisco, I go to the empty line marked 'EXPRESS BOARDING'. The kind young woman happily greets me.

"Neo-Francisco? Alright, may I see some sort of identification?" she asks the usual questions. I give her my Neo-Amsterdam I.D. card stating my usual description, my age, and my picture, which isn't a very nice picture in my opinion. The young woman behind the desk looks from the I.D. card to the ticket then from the I.D. card to myself. Quickly, but in an orderly fashion, she says to me, "Well everything seems to be in order, Ellen. So, how many luggage are you bringing?"

"Two," I reply.

"Okay, place your bags and suitcases that you are not going to carrying on, on the scale one by one," she orders. I take my lightest one and heave it onto the scale and the computer reads it. The young woman takes a tag that says the trip information and the person who it belongs to and wraps it around a handle. She then heaves the suitcase onto the conveyor belt and it disappear through the rubber curtain. I do the same for the second suitcase and heave it onto the scale. She does the same to the second as she did the first and I see the suitcase disappear amongst other people's luggage.

"Now here is your ticket and your I.D. Have a safe trip," she says as she hands me my ticket and I.D. card. She finishes with a friendly smile.

"Thank you very much," I say back.

I leave the ticket area and head towards the security gate. The security here is very thorough and more effective than it was 200 years ago, or whatever my oldest brother Randy says. He's an engineering expert and he actually patented this method himself but gave it to somebody else as a generous gift. His detector machine, I think it was called a ADM*. I forget what is stands for, but it's suppose to detect even the tiniest threat to a train or jet without having one take off his or her shoes or clothing.

I walk towards the gate where the traffic of people is the most empty and step towards the machine. I haven't really done this in a long time but I remember that my father went through these often. I think I have forgotten that I have to give the security guard my I.D. card. That is when he steps in front of me and asks me to give him my I.D. card. I gladly offer it to him and he checks it by sliding it on a slider. The guard gives it back to me and says that it is okay for me to go. Even though he has a sub-machine gun strapped to him, he manages to have a happy disposition when checking guests.

I go through the first gate and put my bag, carrying my cell phone, make-up kit, wallet, and other necessities in it, on the tray and slide it into the detection machine. My bag goes through the same detection method as me. I enter the machine, which looks like a changing room for trying out clothes but without a curtain. It's dark in there, but tiny lights along the floor guide me to the exit. As I pass through the machine I hear a low hum that only people under the age of 20 can hear. Irritating as it can be to children and young adults, I perservere the noise ringing in my ears and exit out the machine. A green light and a joyous ding confirm that I'm not a threat to the Bullet Train and fellow guest. My bag received a good confirmation as well as I take it out of the tray. I leave the security gate and the guard at the end greets me a safe trip, but with not smile.

I look my ticket in my bag and look it over. My gate is G meaning that I don't really have to walk far to get to my gate. Actually Gate G is smack dab in the middle of all gates for that matter. I could go to my gate with time to spare but I look at my watch, and fortunately, since my ride in the flying taxi quickly got me here, I have at least thirty minutes to spare.