I am such a bad traveler. I stress and I worry about every little thing, and sometimes this anxiety is put under a lot of pressure.
Sunday, day of travel.
I wake up, do what needs to be done. My better half drives me to the train station. I take the train. Worrying. Is there enough time?
I get in Dublin. I take a taxi to the airport. Trafic, trafic, everyewhere, and not a drop to drink. Is there enough time?
As the taxi pulls into the airport I notice this large crowd huddled in front of the terminal.
‘They are waiting for a coach.’, the taxi driver says encouragingly.
I look at them and my stomach twists. It is too many of them, something is wrong.
As I get out the taxi, a fine rain starts to fall, at the sight of the crowd I feel faint.
I drag myself and the bag close to them to inquire about what might be happening.
Power outage. All north Dublin. Terminal two is affected. They are working on it.
I understand. I am looking at the crowd in disbelief.
‘The queue is back there!’, a woman that in other circumstance might have been nice snaps at me.
I look at her subdued and I drag my bag for the longest time, until I seem to have reached the end of the line. It is impossible to comprehend the length of the queue. It runs the length of the terminal, well past it until there is almost no sidewalk, and then it doubles on itself, twice.
I will not catch the plane, I am certain.
I call home.
‘All you can do is stay in the queue until you know you have lost the plane for sure. There is still time.’
His voice calms me down and, resolute, I stay put.
At some point the queue starts moving. After a long snake around the outside of the terminal we manage to get in. Another mind boggling queue for the check-in.
I almost get into it with a woman flying to Newark. Her flight is later than mine but she still cuts in front.
By a game of chance I manage to join the security queue in the middle jumping a large section of it. I pass security and I get to pre-check. Here the queue is the same.
I have not gone to the loo in three hours, I feel my head buzzing with stress. I will for sure not catch it.
A little green flight attendant comes and shouts my destination. I join an increasing queue forming behind her. She helps us advance to pre-check skipping a large portion of queue.
While waiting again I feel I am melting and that I am at the end of my strength.
I make it. I am through. I find a screen and my gate seems to be at the end of the world. In red the words Final Call flash menacingly. I cannot lose the flight not now, not after all of this.
I run with the last strength I muster.
I am in.
I was so certain I will lose the flight that it almost feels unreal to be seated in it.
I call home feeling on the verge of tears.
‘I made it!’
‘Now all you have to do is enjoy the trip!’
‘I hope it is worth it!’
This is one of those experiences for the books that teaches you so much about yourself and about how much you can actually handle. Four hours of queuing to infinity.
I have reached my destination and I still cannot believe I caught that flight.
Interesting feeling.