I always turn up way too early for the plane and end up sitting around for hours in the departure lounge, which I totally don’t mind because I’ll have a good book and do some people watching, plus getting there early = no stress. I decided to make an exception to my usual rule last weekend though and leave much later than I would usually have done so I could get some extra sleep the night before.
So I wake up, turn off my alarm, feel surprisingly awake, get dressed, grab bag, stand outside, wait for the cab I ordered, and wait, and wait, what’s the time he should be here by now, half an hour of fruitless phone calls, really have to get going now, run to main road, flag down a tuk tuk to take me to the nearest taxi stand (about 5 miles), leap out of tuk tuk into first cab I see, argue briefly over price with both and we’re away, phew thank god it must be getting really late, go to look at my phone to see just how late
my phone. oh shit.
It’s still in the tuk tuk. Turn the taxi around, drive back to taxi stand, tuk tuk no longer there, talk to other taxi drivers, try calling, no answer, leave my address with taxi drivers in case it turns up, one last quick drive round to look for the autowallah, no luck, by this time it’s seriously late, biting lip the whole way to airport, leap out of taxi, run to doors, and of course I’ve forgotten in India you can’t get into the airport building unless you have a ticket, but guess where mine was, yup on my phone, ‘sorry m’am you can’t come in without a ticket’, run to ticket office at side of building, big queue, push in front (sorry guys), print out my ticket, back to the entrance, finally in, get to check in, ahhhhhh there’s like a million people here, run up to flight attendant who ushers me to the front and checks me in, race through security feeling super important (‘excuse me, that’s my flight they’re announcing, coming through’) race to the gate and YESSSSS I’VE FREAKIN MADE IT. Minus phone, oh well.
What intrigues me is that these sort of days seem to be an ongoing series of unfortunate events: there is never just one problem, one setback: everything that can go wrong, will. It often gets me thinking about karmic responsibility, about whether or not my past and future actions have some sort of influence on my present situation. Not necessarily in a spiritual way, I’m fairly cynical on that front, but logically: my adventure to the airport may have been made a hundred times easier if I had just planned to leave half an hour earlier. Of course, if I had left half an hour earlier, you could have pretty much guaranteed the taxi would have turned up and I’d have been spot on time, left hanging around for two hours to get on an hour-long domestic flight.
This is an excellent example of Sod’s law: If something can go wrong, it will, and at the worst possible time.
Sod’s law often rears its ugly head while I am travelling, however I would be lying if I didn’t say that every once in a while it becomes counterbalanced by its equal and opposite force, good luck (like when a hotel has accidentally reassigned your room so you are forced to move to a much nicer room at the same price, on the way to which a god-like creature crashes into you and as a token of forgiveness insists on taking you out for dinner).