This morning I got out of bed at 5:00am NYC time in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood of Manhattan, or 2:00am San Diego time. Oddly I couldn't find my departure terminal listed on Delta's online checkin. But no bother, I grabbed a cab and left the island, headed for the airport.
Whoops, it turns out that my return flight is for March 20 (next month), not February 20, which would be today. As the suicidal cab driver violated innumerable safety laws, I had a half an hour sans a functioning seat belt to consider the situation. Even better, after discussing the situation with a friendly Delta call center employee in India, and paying an additional $300, I only have to wait here at JFK for about 12 more hours.
Fact: I make about 20 flights a year.
I checked, and that's about my average. I'm not one of the serious road-warrior travelers who spends most of their time away from home, but for a non road-warrior I'm gone a decent amount. I've flown in little single engine prop planes, a sleeper from LAX to LHR, and more middle seats than I want to remember. I took a couple of sleeper train cars across the US, my bed right up against the window as I watched Main Street go by.
Fact: I screw up about one flight a year, or 5% of the time.
What often happens is that things move. A meeting that was scheduled for one day shifts to another, then shifts again, and you have multiple trips you're juggling. Trying to line up with other people, trying to think about how to not be screwed when living out of a bag for a few days in a different town: these are the monkeys in the wrench.
I imagine a lot of frequent travelers screw up, but they probably don't admit it. At least that's what I'll tell myself. I'm not a terribly stupid or irresponsible person, so my megalomaniac view of the world tells me, "Don't worry Eric, you're fine buddy." I smile and say, "Thanks, Eric, that's really considerate of you. By the way, you look terrific today."
Fact: I've been working really hard lately
Sitting in my uncomfortable airport terminal seat, and last night staring at my laptop, it occurred to me that although going sailing on Rebel Heart was a pretty decent accomplishment (minus the part at the end there), the current bar is a bit higher: do it all over again. Except better. Starting with less money, bigger bills, and more baggage (literal and figurative).
And so with that I must end this post and go back to work. My shitty twelve hours at JFK is 12 hours more that I get to dig and scrape towards where I want to go. I will have plenty of time to screw off later, spending a week at anchor in some tropical locale with a decent long board break. Work like a pack mule now so I can exist like a three toed sloth later.