It’s no secret I am habitually late. I really don’t mean to be, and believe it or not, I have actually improved as I have gotten older. Yet, I still tend to run about 10 minutes late to everything. Maybe it’s a lack of planning or maybe as my stepmother says, I just piddle.
In any case, despite arriving at SFO seven (yes, count ‘em seven) hours before my flight home from Cali on Sunday, I actually managed to miss my flight!!! I didn’t fall asleep, I wasn’t drunk; I wasn’t impaired or understandably occupied in any way. I missed my flight because I was running my damn mouth. Insanity! Only me. My friend Kinsey works at the airport and I was standing outside security talking to her instead of getting in line and going to the gate.
When I got to my gate, the plane was still there, but they had closed the doors and there were no airline personnel in sight. I was freaking out and visibly upset. This was actually the first flight I have ever missed. Most people who have heard this story are quite surprised by this fact given my history of tardiness, but usually I am quite prompt when my plans involve a departing aircraft. After the shock wore off and I resigned myself to the fact that I was not getting out of town until the morning, I actually started laughing and couldn’t stop. Who sits at an airport for seven hours and misses their flight?!?!?!? It’s just funny.
I guess if it HAD to happen, this was the perfect situation. I was able to spend one more night with Kinsey, I had a free place to stay and free ride to the airport the next morning, and I didn’t really have any pressing plans in DC the next afternoon...except having my gas turned on in my apt, which I had to reschedule again so no cooking or heat for week number four! Good thing it’s summer and I love takeout.
Oh well, lesson learned!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment