Sitting on a cushioned chair at the airport terminal well in advance of my flight&rsquos scheduled departure time, I had always admired the adventurous streak in people who were one of the last ones to arrive for security and undoubtedly the last ones to enter the craft before its doors closed. I hated my punctuality which made me arrive at airports a little before three hours for an international travel and a little over two hours for a domestic one. Invariably after my baggage was checked in and my security cleared, I always admonished myself for my punctuality, until one day luck decided to throw a little adventure my way.
It so happened that I decided to visit my cousin in Montreal, Quebec for the long weekend of Labor Day.  I booked a cab for a ride to the airport.

When the D-day arrived, I was up and ready by 4:45 a.m. waiting for my cab, which was scheduled to pick me up at 5:00 a.m. for my 8:20 a.m. flight. When my cab did not arrive till 5:20 a.m., I was worried, and decided to call the agency. What I learnt from the representative made me push the panic button full throttle. My call had been received the day before by a trainee representative, who had passed my wrong contact number to the driver, and I was told that the driver, who had been waiting outside my apartment complex trying to contact me unsuccessfully, was heading for pick up another passenger. I made a beeline for my door, ran as fast as I could with my bags dangling from my arms and successfully stopped the cab and hopped into it. By the time we entered the departure terminal it was well past 7:10 a.m. I rushed inside the terminal, holding on to my bags to stop them from falling, only to find myself waiting in a mile long queue at the ticket counter. Being the holiday season, half of the Bay Area residents were traveling. While waiting in line, suddenly, I felt envious towards people who were strolling into the airport with a cup of coffee, and here I was, waiting in the line without a breakfast as my sandwich had fallen off my hand during my marathon run towards the ticketing counter.  After what seemed like eternity, I got my tickets, after which, I found myself running again, this time for the security clearance. I doubt if I would have run any faster than I ran that day even if my house was on fire. 

Suddenly, the idea of being late at the airport lost its luster. I was missing the aroma of hot coffee and those delicious bagels at Starbucks, I was missing my stroll to the books stores located inside the airport, and I was missing the cushioned seats, where I usually sat reading a book waiting to board my flight. I missed everything I did at the airports before boarding my flight. Life just seemed a little unfair when everyone else around me was strolling or sitting leisurely sipping their coffee or eating their breakfast at the food court while I was running all around the airport as if in a boot camp. Oh! Did I mention I was running in my high heels? My new shoes were undoubtedly very chic but sadly unsuitable for this adventure
Once my security was cleared, I jogged towards my terminal. Tired, I realized that I was not as adventurous as I thought myself to be. I finally entered the craft, and was, needless to say, one of the last ones to do so. My heroic spirit had deserted me a long ago. To be honest, what had once been my dream was now reduced to a nightmare. I realized how wrong I had been in admonishing myself for arriving early at the airports. Once I slumped into my seat, I went into deep slumber even before the aircraft left the runway. I do not remember what I dreamt of, but my fellow passenger told me just before we landed, that all through my sleep I had kept muttering, "I'd never ever another adventure like this."