I woke up at 4a.m. drenched in sweat, dreaming I had missed my flight. I rechecked my flight details online and settled back for a restless sleep.
Jet sent me a text at 5 (forwarded from my father) saying that the flight was delayed.
In the back of my mind there is always the worry that I might miss my flight.
And this time, I did.
And it was as bad as I always imagined.
The only consolation is that after 13 hours of waiting and missing 2 flights, my wah-wahing did eventually score me a free cab home.
However I now face the difficult choice of going back in the morning on stand-by or just going in 5 days time confirmed.
My eternal optimism is pushing me towards tomorrow morning even though I’m dreading, absolutely dreading another futile trek back and forth with my luggage.
What do I do?
I can’t wait to smoke a joint. Half the reason I didn’t want to go to a hotel was the promise of that lovely smoke back in bed.
(Some random strangers offered to let me crash after more tears. The damsel in distress thing does work wonders I must say.)
I feel so low.