So effing close…
July 24, 6:00 PM
I barely made it. Seriously. With the rain, the traffic, the rubbernecking and the two missed exits, I barely bad it on the plane.
I was told not to run in the airport by a customs officer and I got totally annoyed. I wanted to tell him that they do it in movies all the time. At Customs, a lovely woman in front of me let me go ahead of her and even asked people in front of her to let me ahead when I was too shy to do it. I say “lovely,” but I had secretly hated all her annoyingly loud and overly cute Aryan children at the check-in line a few minutes before. Everyone was oohing and ahhing at how cute they were. Even the disgruntled guy at the first checkpoint smiled at the kids while yelling at everyone else. Children can be so full of themselves.
But despite being told not to run, I ran. I ran right down that moving sidewalk and past the airport restaurant. I’ll have to admit that I did feel a split second pang of jealousy about the businessmen sipping beer around the bar but there was no time for overpriced drinks. I was the second last person to board, just reaching the Gate B13 before the attendant closed the door. Phew. If I were still in the airport lounge, I’d buy that woman a drink. And those fucking kids some candy.