We did not take our daughter Talia to church or synagogue growing up, so it was our fault she missed the “Honor Thy Father and Mother” memo. We did raise her to speak out and so it’s just desserts that when I start to tell an airport story, she rolls her eyes and tells me in no uncertain terms that she’s not interested. I get how it often is just a “you had to be there” situation or a “be glad that you were not,” but hey, we all share our experience and airports are a big part of mine.
But in her honor, I will not tell the story of my missed flight in Izmir, how I was waiting at the gate right next to the correct one and somehow didn’t realize it and when I handed the woman my ticket to board, I thought she said I was the wrong boarding group and should wait and when I waited until the line was almost all through and went again, she told me that (actually) it was the wrong flight and the right one was at the gate next door and how I rushed there and of course, it had left already so I went back out Security to the Pegasus Airlines ticket counter and cut to the front and they waved me to the office across the way and I got there just as a man was dropping off a bag, which happened to be mine which they had not loaded on to the plane when they realized I wasn’t on it (here the story would need extra bells and whistles—how amazing was the timing of that?) and how the man behind the counter said he could get me on the next flight at 9:30 and it was 9:05 and I paid him the extra $34 and rushed back to the ticket counter where they let me cut in again and sent my bag off and went through security again and to the gate and on to the plane and arrived in Istanbul an hour later certain that my bag didn’t make it and how it did and how someone met me and got me into a car with a wood floor and some sweets and how I’m writing this on a busy highway in pouring rain en route to my host’s house in Istanbul where I’ll spend the afternoon finishing the notes to yesterday’s workshop and preparing for tonight’s.
In deference to my daughter Talia, that’s the story I’m not going to tell.
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.