Latest Dispatches from the Front

Somehow, despite my best intentions, I managed to make it out of America successfully. This whole episode just goes to show why I always run late: everything usually works out in the end.

I slept the night down in Gig Harbor to spend my last moments with Anne, so Emigrating Day started at 7:50am, when I arrived - 30 minutes late - to finish last-minute packing before the movers arrived at 8:30. Always a good sign! After I hurriedly packed and the movers came and went, Garth and I headed over to Mae’s Phinney Ridge Diner for one last breakfast. The last time I had been there was with Lily almost two years ago, shortly after I had moved to Seattle! We then finished up with the remained of my stuff heading into storage – and I discovered a garment box that still needed to go to NZ.

The airlines recommend three hours of prep time at the airport for international departures. Now, the first leg of my flight was to San Francisco and I will admit that it is an admittedly exotic and unusual place, but I still do not need a passport to go there yet. Nonetheless, I had planned on leaving for Sea-Tac by noon to have this three hour window. Ah, man plans and G-d laughs, no? We left Garth’s place about 45 minutes late, and still had to go by the post office to collect my last mail, the bank to get some seed money, and the moving warehouse in Tukwila for the unfortunate garment box. I think this would have all worked out still, if it had not been for the damn Interstate. It pains me greatly to admit it, but we ended up wasting close to 40 minutes going round-and-round trying to get on I-5 south from the top of the Rainier Valley – it is not easy to do! By the time we arrived at the airport, there was less than an hour and a half left of my three-hour window (i.e. we were 1.5 hours late now). And then my lateness karma stepped in. Untied Airlines, in their usual manner, had delayed my flight by two hours.

Given this delay, I had, just planned, plenty of time to check myself and my baggage train in, sit down for a drink with Garth, get through security, and make last-minute phone calls and texts goodbye. Sure, my flight landed late in San Francisco, but my original 2.5-hour layover still had enough float that I could dash over to the international terminal and get aboard an Air New Zealand Boeing 777 bound for across the sea with fifteen minutes to spare. Best of all, my luggage made all the connections too.

This, kids, is Defense Exhibit No. One as to why I am always late. On what was the biggest event of my recent life – a 20-hour flight to a foreign country for relocation – I ran invariably late by almost two hours, and yet everything worked flawlessly! I feel a little guilty about the whole thing since I know this is one of my traits that should not be encouraged. However, I also feel just as satisfied about it, because I was able to wring every available second out of my Wednesday.