Departure!

I love airports!
                    I truly do!
                          The weird shaped suitcases!
                                                   The hurried, worried passengers running for their plane!

And on Saturday the 29^th January 2011, that was me!

Yes, despite getting to the airport early enough so as to have time in which one could squeeze in a farewell laugh with an unforgettable friend and have one more cuppa tea with her and her family:

                                         I was running full pelt for the plane!

The sad truth is: many people back home won’t be surprised at this; timing has never been my strong point! In fact in England, people abide by the “ ’Better tell Hazel 30 minutes earlier just so she arrives on time...” rule.

But why

was I

running

you ask?

Well, picture this:

Dragging your suitcase down the departure tunnel heading towards Gate Number 11, in the quiet but understanding company of 5 others from all over the globe.

A squad of travellers who can't exchange a word in the same language but all united for an instant! 

Just as this strange party of people pass Gate Two, two airport employee pass-by, walking in the opposite direction...They stop suddenly and call:

"You're not all for Paris? Charles de Gaulle?! It's leaving now! The gate is closing! You'd better run!"

                                                                    So there we were;
Sprinting!
                 Gasping for breath! 
                                                 Cursing our 20kg suitcases in all manner of ways and in all five different languages!

All together, as a team we raced down this tunnel, making sure that if one of us got to the plane we wouldn’t let it leave without the others!

Finally Gate Eleven is insight! New life shoots through the Chinese Man's veins who's jogging to your right and he takes the lead! Rounds the corner! To the entrance finish line!!

And there.... he stops dead. His shoulders shag and he joins the end of a large queue for boarding the plane.

Now, whether or not the airport staff were watching our 'International Suitcase Sprint' on the CCTV cameras, with their feet up & bent over from laughing at how gullible we all were!
Or, whether they were correct to inform us of the potential departure of our plane - 5 passengers down or not.
                                                       I don't think I will ever find out!

But, y'know what?
                 Two things occured to me while running:

1) 'Suitcase Speed Sprinting' should be in the Olympic Games.
             (Afterall, Airport Employees would tune in I'm sure! And looking back, who can blame them? At the very least our rush in the airport would be undoubtedly more entertaining to watch than Bowls afterall. Watch this space for a new spectator sport!)

And:
2) How much I really wanted to go! I couldn't miss this plane to Paris!
                       I ran so hard, for so long!

Looking back, maybe it was a sign to kick me out of my circle of uneasy thoughts that had begun to manifest themselves & were on continuous repeat around my skull: 'Am I doing the right thing in leaving my luxury 4 walled life behind me? I have every I need right here...!'

Whilst in that moment of adrenaline filled panic, it became quite apparent to me:

The regret of not trying in the first place would be worse than failing.

"For Your Not A Failure, Until You Fail To Try"

(Quote from Poem: Don't Quit  - Anon)