Not really.
I think I’ve had worse, but today is shaping up to be pretty damn close. Top three easily.
Routine is key for me, and I was well aware that being on vacation would mess that up, but still, I tried my best to stick to a routine as best I could to prevent mishaps like this.
Which is why I don’t know how the hell I woke up late, and had to rush around like a chicken with its head cut off. This isn’t just a simpleyou overslept and you’ll get there late.No, this wasayou overslept and now you’re going to miss your flight to get home to your comfort place.
Not to mention potentially making Trey late, too. Thankfully, he showed up at my door instead of waiting for me downstairs. I appreciate his thoughtfulness. He even brought me food and coffee, which helped, since I didn’t have time to make coffee before I hopped in the shower.
Riding to the airport with Trey is better than taking an Uber. The last driver I had wouldn’t stop talking, and I tried my best not to be rude, but I had no interest in what the guy’s plans were for the weekend, and he didn’t get the hint that I didn’t want to hear about it.
At least with Trey, the ride is quiet, outside of the radio and him asking a random question now and then.
“Oh, wow, look at that.” He points ahead of us, and I look through the windshield to see exactly what he’s talking about.
“We can fly through clouds,” I say, though I won’t lie—the grey haze spikes my anxiety a little. Looks like an oncoming storm.
“I know that, but they’re pretty dark.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I say.
“Yeah, of course it will be,” he adds confidently.
I shift in my seat and close my eyes, telling myself the plane ride home will be fine, despite the dark clouds that loom ahead.
Trey navigates through the traffic and into the rental drop-off area. We take our things and walk across the garage to the entrance, toward our gates.
Coincidentally, we’re on the same airline, so we’ll be able to sit near one another until I have to board, since my flight leaves first.
Both of us take out our phones as we make our way to the TSA lines. The woman standing by the entrance checks Trey’s ticket and waves him through, so he moves on ahead. She looks at mine and raises her hand to wave me through, but pauses.
“Let me see this,” she says, taking my phone and looking at it closer. “Sir, you’re at the wrong airport.”
“I—what? That’s impossible.”
She frowns, handing me my phone back. The line is filling up behind me, and I’m starting to sweat. “You’re at JFK. This ticket is for Newark.”
“That’s not even in New York,” I argue, taking my phone back to see what she’s looking at. I can’t possibly have done that.
She shrugs and waves to the person behind me to move forward.
I step aside, staring at my phone with my mouth wide open.
How the hell did I do this? How did I mess this up?
With trembling fingers, I go through my email to look at my confirmation email.
“Newark,” I whisper.
“Everything okay?” Trey asks.
I look at him with tears welling in my eyes, but push it away.
“I, uh… booked for the wrong airport.”
“What? Are you sure?”
He comes back to me, leaving the line, and takes my phone.
