Hitting a Travel Milestone: Missing the Flight

I’ve finally done it. I missed my very first flight. On many occasions have I been causally sitting around the airport to be the last person to enter the plane, in mid-run I could’ve been found rushing to the gate, and in complete panic I have squeezed myself past people in line as I was found running through security. But I always made it.

Today, for the very first time, I did not even make it to the airport.

At 04.26 my first out of four alarms started beeping. At 08.03 I woke up to sunshine and voices outside my door and in an instance with a heartbeat worthy of a marathon runner I was, still in bed, searching for alternatives to reach the airport on time. The travel gods mocked me with their inauguration ceremony: Fat chance! They chanted as I had less time until the flight than any transportation short of teleportation could possibly accomplish… where is Montgomery Scotty when you need him? (Trekkie 4-life!)

Surrendering, and somewhat entertained that I’ve conquered travel fever to such a degree I can snooze through four alarms without a care in the world, I looked for alternatives while preparing a pot of coffee.

Now safely on a train towards another airport, flying with a different airline, and arriving at a different time, I should eventually at least reach the same destination. Madrid, here I come.

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