Huge Travel Errors

In which I arrive to airport later than I ever have and do something extreme

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Yesterday I was being driven by a friend to a mid-sized airport for what I thought was a 1:45 flight.

At about the middle point of the half-hour drive it occurred to me that maybe my flight was actually at 12:45. It was.

Holy shit, I said to my friend, adding, Oh my God I’m such a dumb fuck.

She generously told me a story about missing a plane that she promised was worse, and involved alcohol.

Wow, I said, as I called American Airlines. That is worse.

American Airlines put me on hold. I was not even that upset. I was like, sometimes we do ridiculous things. What can you do? Failure often calms me.

We talked about the size of the airport and agreed that it could be quick to go through security or it could take forever.

My friend has flown in and out of this airport probably 50 times. I have flown in and out of this airport 1.5 times.

We compared notes again and returned to the conclusion that it would either be very fast or it could take a long time to get to my gate. We did this for the whole rest of the drive over and over.

She dropped me off at 12:15.  I hung up from the American Airlines hold music and walked into the airport at a good clip but didn’t run. I saw an American Airlines person. Was there anyway someone could take me to the front of security?

I know this is absolutely ridiculous but I’ve seen this done.

He was nice but he said “No ma’am not at this airport.” Fair enough. I was on my own. It was the Wild West.

The security area at this airport was somewhere between not busy at all and busy enough that if you have eight minutes to get to your plane, busy. I made an executive decision. I was going to do something I have never done in my entire life. I was going to duck under a rope.

I cannot impress upon you enough the extent to which I have never ducked under a rope. Oh yes I might have ducked under a rope to avoid a long walk when the rope was not really necessary, when no one would’ve cared and it wasn’t about prioritizing oneself over others but about just avoiding extra ropes. But I have never “done cutsies” in my life, not ever.

Upon righting myself from my historic duck I was face to face with an older woman and what I presume was her daughter. They had kind faces and they smiled at me with warm compassion as if we were taking a knife skills class together and I was holding my severed index finger in my hand, and not like I had suddenly just decided I was more important than 100 strangers because I thought a 12 was a 1. “I am so late,” I said. “I just completely messed up. I thought my flight was at 1:45 but it’s 12:45.”

“Oh we’ve both done that before,” the older woman said. The younger woman confirmed this was true. “Let’s just get you through the line,” said the older woman. “We are early, go right ahead.”

Shaking with the personal horror of having committed cutsies, I dropped my license and all my cards on the floor.

“Oh dear,” said the older woman. “You’re just in a state, aren’t you? I’ve been there before myself!”

There’s really not a lot more to say. I showed the guy my license. I showered thanks on all within earshot. I got into the security line. It was one of those amazing airports where you don’t have to take anything out of your bag. Once I’d gotten through security, it was 12:20. They were closing the doors to my flight in 10 minutes, which was about a six minute walk away. I got on the plane and felt wonderful.

There is no moral to this story. Sometimes you get lucky. I wrote to my friend. I said I made it and told her I ducked under a rope which was terrifying. Wow, she said. I get it, I respect ropes. I said I did too, so much, ordinarily. Usually I feel proud or ashamed of things like this. I do not have any feelings about what transpired at that airport other than I am glad that I made my flight. I flew into a city famous for its horses and you could actually see horses from the air, all over the place, like you see swimming pools flying into LA.