Monday, January 09, 2006

 

The Journey Back - Part I

When bad stuff happens, there are always two ways to take it.

Former Angelica: “Damnit, I can’t believe I screwed up so bad! Now I’m going to dwell on my mistake and make myself feel worse.” (cf. pessimism)

Current Angelica: “That sucks, I sure learned my lesson. Though, who knows? Maybe that’s the way it was supposed to turn out this time… let’s see what happens.” (cf. fate, butterfly effect, faith in God)

Over the past four months I’ve learned to be less hard on myself, and put my faith in a force higher than me. Take my flight back to Nice, for example.

Flight plan: Leave Vancouver on an Air Canada flight at around 11pm on Thursday night, connect through Montreal Trudeau Airport then Paris Charles de Gaulle, to arrive finally at Nice.
Estimated total travel time: 11h 30min

Actual travel time: 4 days.

--
Thursday, 9:45pm

I stare blankly up at the YVR airport departures board, laden with a backpack, Grace Hopper shoulder tote, and push cart bogged down with two overstuffed suitcases.

“I shouldn’t have brought so much back”, I think to myself, recalling the difficulty I’d had packing 12 kilograms worth of bubble tea tapioca pearls, powders and accessories into my 2 baggage limit.

Nah. So worth it.

My mom pokes me. “Anak, check your ticket. What’s your flight number?”

“Umm…AC 884.” We both gaze upward at the ever-changing lightboard. Hmm… Montreal… Montreal…

“Well, there’s that one at 11:20. That must be it,” I point.

“I thought you said it was at 11:10? And the one up there is AC 343.”

“Maybe they changed it?” I wonder, gazing back down at my ticket. “Heh, it IS January 5th, today, right?” I ask her, half-jokingly.

We stand there for a couple moments, eyebrows furrowed, counting forwards in our heads from New Years.

“Yup.” Well then, what was going on? I scrutinize my green and white ticket, my gaze eventually resting upon the numbers 1110. Flight time. 1110. The wheels turn slowly in my head, like a hamster poked into a lazy jog. Oh no. I flip to my second ticket, and my heart skips a beat as I read the departure time for my connecting flight. 16h40. Oh my god. 24 hour time.

My flight had left at 11:10 that MORNING.

---

Thirty minutes later, I snap out of my shock and find myself standing at the Air Canada service counter, my mom waving new tickets in front of me. How’d I even get here?

“Hellooo… it’s okay. They charged us a flight change change fee, but you’re lucky. They said that normally those tickets would be worthless already. You’ve got a flight to Paris, tomorrow morning. But they can’t do anything about the leg down to Nice. You’ll have to find a way down there yourself.”

So, not only am I still stunned at my utter stupidity, but 10x more confused that my mom isn’t rubbing it in. How is it possible that she’s being so nice about this?

She continues, as if responding to my disdainful I-hate-myself-but-why-don’t-you? look, “This stuff happens, and I’m sure it’s God’s plan. That’s why I’m not worrying.”

Sure, mom. More preachy preachy. Eyes rolly rolly.

Comments:
Hmm... Sorry to hear about your flight mixup. Glad to hear that you are safe and sound back in Nice though.

And good job on finally posting an update ;)
 
: )

Mini-vacation in Paris. Rock on!
 
This is scary! Aiii! I better triple check my ticket to czech...
 
Yeah no kidding! Let this be a lesson to all of you ;)
 
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