Bindi, Mindy, Windy, Cindy, and Marge—five very mismatched sisters—set off on a three-week European adventure that promises sisterly bonding, sightseeing, and a whole lot of chaos. From Bindi’s no-nonsense punctuality to Windy’s eccentricities, each sister brings her own quirks and drama. Will they make it through the trip with their sanity intact? And will Europe ever be the same?
This lighthearted comedy is about sibling relationships, the chaos of travel, and the joy of embracing each other’s eccentricities—even when they drive you crazy.
Bindi pulled into Mindy’s driveway at 6:42 a.m., precisely twelve minutes later than she’d intended. It wasn’t her fault—her husband Teddy had insisted on giving her a good long hug before she left, murmuring about how much he’d miss her. Bindi suspected it was more about the unfettered access to pizza and beer he was about to gain in her absence, but she wasn’t entirely heartless. It wasn’t every day a man could wave his wife off on a three-week European sister spree and then order a large pepperoni without fear of reprisal.
Bindi honked the horn three times, the international signal for hurry up already. Mindy opened her front door and hollered, “I’m coming! Do you want me to die of a coronary rushing down these stairs?”
“You’ve taken longer to get out of this house than your ex took to sign the divorce papers!” Bindi shouted back, tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.
When Mindy finally emerged, she was dragging a suitcase roughly the size of a Hyundai and wearing an aggressively floral scarf that Bindi thought made her look like a guest lecturer at a community college seminar on Victorian botany.
“Do you really need all that?” Bindi asked, opening the back of the rental van.
“Yes,” Mindy replied, tossing her suitcase in with a grunt. “And before you insist, which I know you will, the scarf is staying. I’ll fit right in. It’s European.”
“Sure it is. If Europe was hosting a garden party in 1983.”
Mindy slid into the passenger seat with a huff, clutching her oversized travel mug of chamomile tea like it was a life raft. “Do you want to fight already, or are we saving that for hour two on the plane?”
“No fighting,” Bindi said. “But if we miss this flight because of your suitcase, I’m leaving you at customs.”
“Fine,” Mindy said, digging in her bag for gum.
“Where’s Windy?”
“Next stop.”
———-
Windy, true to her name, was standing in her front yard when her sisters arrived, as though she knew they were going to arrive at that exact moment, wearing a dramatic billowing kaftan. Her mane of mostly gray hair with streaks of black was as wild as usual. She outstretched her arms to greet her sisters. Honestly, she looked like she was auditioning for a spot in a cult recruitment video. She had one suitcase, a large tote bag, and, inexplicably, a full-sized potted fern.
“What’s with the plant?” Bindi asked as Windy climbed into the back seat, carefully placing the fern on her lap like it was her firstborn.
“Her name is Fiona,” Windy said serenely. “She’s my travel companion.”
“No, we’re your travel companions,” Mindy said, swiveling around. “You can’t bring a plant to Europe.”
“Why not?” Windy said, affronted. “She’s self-sustaining. Mostly.”
“Because she’s not allowed through customs,” Bindi bluntly pointed out, pulling back onto the road. There was absolutely no spare time to stop to reason with her sister – and reasoning with this particular sister would undoubtedly make them miss the trip altogether. However, it didn’t stop her from trying to interject some reason along the way. “Do you really think the TSA will let you waltz through security with a houseplant? They’ll assume it’s stuffed with cocaine.”
“Typical Bindi,” Windy said, shaking her head. “Always jumping to the worst conclusions.”
“Fine,” Bindi said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “But when we have to toss Fiona into a trash can at JFK, don’t come crying to me.”
“I would never abandon her in a trash can!” Windy exclaimed. “She’s coming, or I’m staying.”
“Your choice,” Mindy said sweetly. “But if you stay, I call dibs on your share of the croissants.”
“Cindy and Marge will agree with me,” Windy dismissed. “I’m sure they’re intending to bring their companions as well.”
“No they are not,” Bindi replied. “They’ve already made arrangements for a pet sitter. Their neighbor, Jane. In any case, pets are a bit different than plants.”
“Shhh,” Windy hushed, casting a protective arm over Fiona’s verdure. “She’ll hear you.”
“My Lord,” Mindy uttered, failing to stifle an eye roll.
“Let’s just see if Jane would be willing to look after, uh, Fiona, huh?” Bindi said, glancing again in her rear view at an increasingly agitated Windy. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
“Oh, aright,” Windy pouted. “If you don’t think it would be too much for her. Fiona can be quite a handful.”
Mindy and Bindi shared a knowing glance, both agreeing that three weeks of having to put up with Windy’s “unique” personality may be two weeks and six days too many.
———
Cindy and Marge had neighboring apartments in the same complex, with windows next to one another’s. Through Cindy’s, an orange cat could be seen on the sill like a furry cushion, snoozing in the sun. In Marge’s, Felix, her 4 year old mixed breed dog, was giving the window a thorough licking, no doubt hoping repeat the action on the faces of the sisters when they actually made their way into his home.
“We don’t get to say good-bye to Ms. Kitty?” Mindy asked as Cindy emerged, carrying a suitcase and a tote bag absolutely brimming with snacks and turning to lock her door.
“I figured Bindi would be raring to go,” Cindy replied. “She’s 10 minutes late.”
“Yes, I made up two minutes!” Bindi exclaimed. “You’ve always been my favorite sister, you know that?”
Bindi gave a grinning Cindy a few quick pats on the back as they headed to Marge’s next door.
Felix met them on the threshold, licking the air that he wished were their faces, but was too well behaved to jump up.
Marge and her luggage were, as predicted, in complete disarray. She was flitting throughout her apartment, making little pit stops to one bag or another to add this or that, wearing what could only be described as athleisure couture—a rhinestone-studded tracksuit and sneakers.
“You’re not packed!?” Bindi exclaimed, absently patting Felix on the head that he heaved against her leg.
“Almost,” Marge said, waving a hand. “Just need a few last minute essentials.”
Cindy stepped forward, after seeing Bindi’s cup about to runneth over Marge with the rental van, and zipped up the largest of Marge’s suitcases. “This one’s done. And anything else we can get in Europe. I’m sure they have a tacky sweat-suit shop over there somewhere.”
Marge stopped in her flittage between rooms to pose. “Yes, Cindy, I know I’m fabulous, and yes, Bindi, I am ready. I just have to say good-bye to my wittle sweet baby buggle!” Felix abandoned his Aunts to sprint toward Marge who knelt down for the love fest. “Oh, I wuv you so much. Yes, I do! Yes, I do!!” The snuggle session was cut slightly short, however, when Marge finally caught sight of Windy. “What’s up with the plant?”
“Fiona,” Windy said, cradling the ceramic pot containing her companion.
“Bless you,” Marge replied. “What’s up with the plant?”
Windy pursed her lips at the blatant disrespect. “This is Fiona, my companion plant. Bindi pointed out that she may get confiscated…,”
“…thrown in the trash,” Bindi interjected.
“…at customs, so I was hoping, if it wasn’t too much trouble, that your sitter, Jane, may be able to take on an other charge?”
“Oh, sure. Just plunk her there on the counter.” Marge replied, resuming petting Felix. “So, she just needs to water it? Like, what, once a week?”
“Oh no,” Wendy said, gently putting down Fiona on a sill that she made sure was facing south-south-east. “She has her essential oils, spa treatments, massages…,” she continued, taking a small case out of her satchel and placing it next to her plant. “Maybe she would be too much for your pet sitter to handle, though…”
“No, it’s okay. How about you give me all the details on our way to the airport and I’ll text Jane the instructions? Actually, it’s perfect! Jane is a master gardener, you know.”
“Really!” Windy said gleefully, allowing Marge to link arms and lead her to the door.
“Yes!” Marge exclaimed, gently coaxing Windy forward, before turning to give a wide eyed, surreptitious head shake to Mindy and Bindi.
——–
The drive to the airport was predictably chaotic. Windy insisted on playing her “Zen Journey” playlist, which was mostly pan flutes and whale sounds. Bindi retaliated by cranking up ABBA’s Greatest Hits until the van felt like it might burst into a spontaneous disco inferno.
“Can we focus?” Cindy shouted from the back, shaking a bag of trail mix. “We need a game plan for security.”
“Don’t look suspicious,” Bindi said.
“I’m not suspicious,” Windy said, swaying in her seat to her flute music with her eyes closed.
“What if they confiscate my shampoo?” Marge asked, looking genuinely concerned.
“Are you carrying the gallon-sized one again?” Cindy asked.
“It’s premium,” Marge said defensively. “You can’t just buy it at Target.”
“Ladies,” Bindi said, pointing to the airport sign up ahead. “We’re here. Everyone act like normal human beings.”
The sisters erupted into nervous laughter because normal wasn’t really their thing.
After returning the rental van, the sisters, looking like a wheeled luggage biker gang, crossed the parking lot to the airport.
“What are we going to eat first?” Cindy asked the group at large.
“English triffle!” Marge shouted.
“Chocolate croissants from a French boulangerie,” said Mindy.
“Spanakopita from Greek Gods,” squeaked Windy excitedly.
“Well, since we’re arriving in Scotland first, my guess is haggis,” Bindi reasoned, causing the rest of the group to wrinkle their noses in her direction.
“From the Scottish Gods!” Cindy remedied.
The airport doors whooshed open before them sending a wave of almost palpable giddiness through the group.
“All right,” Marge said. “Let’s do this. Europe here we come!”
“Europe isn’t ready for us,” Mindy joked.
“Good thing we’re ready for Europe,” Cindy exclaimed.
“And by ‘ready,’” Bindi finished, dragging her suitcase behind her, “we mean barely holding it together.”