Note to self: put razor in suitcase, not purse.

11:18pm // Washington Dulles Airport: Gate C-22, no gate C-5, no gate C-22, no cancelled

I had a great meeting today.  Well, by great I mean it’s over.  The meeting itself could have been better, but I stressed about it for a month, and now it’s over. I feel like a weight was lifted. I leave for vacation in 3 days, but because this meeting is done, my mental vacation started about 2 hours ago when I arrived at the airport.  I bought myself a real dinner at the only restaurant in the airport that isn’t a burger bar, and sat next to a woman engrossed in her Kindle.  This is the way travel for work is portrayed in commercials.  Arrive at the airport, find an open seat next to a non-threatening fellow-traveler, engage in conversation over a much needed Tito’s Dirty Martini, breeze onto your flight. End scene.  

I was so close.

I got a text message saying my flight is now delayed 2 hours.  No matter, nothing is going to get me down.  I’ll queue up Netflix and catch up on my binge watching while I wait.  My phone buzzes, now my flight is rerouting and will arrive at a different gate in 4 hours. Okayyy, less excited about Netflix now.  I finish dinner, grab a Starbucks and head to my new gate.  Settled in I start watching, and my phone buzzes with an alert.  Your flight has landed, please be at gate C-22 to board.  LANDED?  It was 4 hours 40 minutes ago!?!  Ok, toss the Starbucks, throw iPad into purse, grab gum, run to C-22.  Wait, why is my finger in pain?  Oh my god!  Why is blood pouring from my finger?  Where is my fingertip?!!?  Oh. My. God. My razor! I threw my razor into my purse this morning in my hotel room when I was in a rush to checkout.  My freshly bladed razor just took the tip of my finger off! Ok, I can’t miss my fight, just wrap your finger in your fist and run.  I arrive at Gate C-22 only to see the reader-board say Flight Canceled. So. Close.

Journey on, Janes. ?

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