My non-stop flight to Phoenix departed at 7:10 AM. Generally, it is suggested to arrive at the airport at least an hour before take-off, to allow for various delays in checking in, passing through security, boarding, and so forth. In my context this calls for arriving at the airport at 6:10. Factor in a hot shower, a nutritious breakfast, double-checking my suitcases for everything I need, and the fifteen minute drive to the airport; and realistically I need to wake up at 5:00 AM.
When I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on my door instead the expected ringing of my alarm clock, I knew I was screwed.
Sure enough, I opened the door to see Toto and my older brother, who greeted me with the quite well deserved, “Where have you been!” Absolutely mortified, I look over to my clock to see the time 6:14, announcing my certain doom in red glowing numbers. 6:14!! My plane is taking off in 56 minutes and I just woke up.
I stared at my alarm clock for a while in disbelief, hoping if I stared at the numbers long enough that it would change. I had made sure my alarm was set before going to bed. However further examination revealed the source of the problem, my alarm clock was 12 hours ahead- the same alarm-setting mistake that has me made late for church and almost miss class too many times to count. It was set to go off at the Eastern Standard Time equivalent of 5:00 PM.
After saying “Oh, crap” enough times to make a movie receive a PG-13 rating, I took what was most definitely the fastest shower of my life and got completely dressed in less then three minutes, flat. I grabbed my carry-on’s and ran down stairs where John already had the car packed and ready to go. (I’m sure this will in fact come as a great shock to those who know him well, but John found the entire ordeal quite humorous, and was actually snapping pictures the entire time.)
Well, by God’s grace I made it to my flight on time, literally being the second to last one to board, just a few short minutes before taxing down the runway.
Now granted there were other encumbrances along the way. One of my suitcases was overweight, one of the security agents found it necessary to yell at me, the line through security was backed up all the way to the escalators by the ticketing counters (for those of you who are not familiar with the Louisville airport, that is really, really far), and people are just as impolite and depraved as ever. But that is an all-together different subject. As far as the satire of air travel goes, well that is better left to the stand-up comics of the mid-nineties.