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I missed my flight this morning.
Never done that before, but that’s not saying much. I’ve never been able to do a decent hand-stand, never tried pickled pigs feet, never wrote out a date like 12/12/12. There are as many “never haves” as there are “firsts”, and I eagerly look forward to meeting them. That’s how I’m choosing to approach this morning’s misfortune: with a relentless, almost nauseating, optimism. I have about 20 hours of travel ahead of me, and petulantly mulling over how things “should have been” isn’t going to make the clock spin faster.
So instead I will write. Like a mad woman. All day. All stinking day from ground level to 30,000 feet in the air I will subject my blog to my musings. At least I enjoy airports – they make for good people watching. In the daytime, anyway. They’re no fun at 3am when everyone looks like the walking dead, and sounds are gobbled up by long empty corridors then spit out as eerie echoes all cold and hollow. And Starbucks is closed. That’s probably the worst bit.
Anyway, this morning is more on the cheerful side; there are plenty of souls bustling around me and the Boston sunrise was decent for a day in December. My name is being butchered over the loudspeaker – I think I’m getting my seat assignment. To be continued.