I am Late, I am Late……..

Over the last year, Dirk and I have had a few very close calls getting to the airport just in time to board the plane. You would think that travelling for the year, this would not occur since it is the only item on our agenda.

The night before we left Malaysia, I checked the time to get to the airport. It was 27 minutes. Quick calculation: time to airport plus extra time for traffic plus time to have breakfast at the airport equals time to be in car. This formula will fail you every time if you don’t factor in the time for traffic properly. This is also the part of the calculation that is the most tricky, as you have no clue about traffic in any foreign city. So, while sitting in a grid lock of traffic, I express my concern to Dirk as the Uber monitor tells us we will arrive to the airport 15 minutes before we are to take off. This is not good at all. We mention this to the driver, who then tries his best to get us there, but there is really nothing he can do. By some miracle we arrive, run directly to security without checking the bags, after a few moments of grabbing items out of Dirks bag (knife, scissors), we dash to gate. A brief lecture about our late arrival, we are seated an on our way to Cambodia.

This was a lesson to remember, but why does it happen again? Why can’t we get the ‘consider traffic’ part of the formula correct?

In Bangkok we decided to head to the airport 3 hours before the flight. Plenty of time to relax for a bite to eat prior to boarding. Again, sitting in traffic, we look at each other and explain to the Uber driver about the flight. His solution was more exciting and would rival the best leg of any Amazing Race. We jumped out of the car, jumped on two scooters and had the drivers take us to the train. Weaving in and out of traffic, no helmets, while trying not to flip backwards off the bikes. Three trains later, we arrive at the airport with no time to spare. But, we can’t find our checkin desk. Both of us are asking anyone that would listen, but there are no signs. Finally, some lady standing at a unsigned desk asks Dirk if this is our names on boarding passes. Yes, another miracle, they are waiting for us. They give us express passes through customs and security. Again, no time to eat, just right to the gate.

As we stand at the gate sweating, I think to myself, why can these two fairly smart individuals figure this shit out!!

 

 

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