The dumbest thing I’ve done in years.
I’m writing this in Toronto but it’s a miracle I made it here at all. Well, let’s just say things didn’t really go according to plan. My flight to Amsterdam was scheduled for Friday the 5th at 19.45 from New York, meaning I would be arriving in Amsterdam at around 10 am. I was planning to change suitcases so I could catch my next flight to Toronto, on Sunday morning the 5th of June at 10 am.
I know it sounds absolutely crazy to be flying back and forth but there were reasons I felt good about doing this. Besides I love flying, the more hours the better. So on Thursday evening I went out on the town with our Bo and in the small hours we ended up on the roof of the very hip Dream Hotel in Meatpacking, both very tipsy. The next morning, after waking up with a heavy head, I manage to pack my suitcase and I checked out at around 11:00.
I take another look at my ticket and check my flight number and that’s when my world stopped turning.
Outside the hotel I had wanted to check in using my cell phone (if I stood directly in front of the door I had Wi-Fi). All kinds of errors popped up on my screen and my first thought was, “Ah well, I’ll see to this later when I arrive at JFK,” but thank heavens I decided to go back into the hotel and sit down behind one of their iMacs to check in anyway.
Again I kept getting errors. I take another look at my ticket and check the flight number that’s when my world stopped turning, my feet no longer felt the ground and I was overcome by hot flashes. My flight wasn’t tonight. My flight was YESTERDAY.
Thursday the 4th of June. It says here in black and white. This date has been on my ticket for weeks on end. But then I’ve been saying my flight back was on the 5th for the same duration of weeks. Maybe I got it wrong because I was due to land at Schiphol on the 5th but in truth I have absolutely no idea how I could have missed this.
Right, I still had to get out of New York to be in Amsterdam on time in order to catch my flight to Canada. If I missed the flight to Toronto my return trip would be gone too. And besides my suitcase was stuffed with modish summer wear for New York, nothing suitable, like flats, for me to wear in Canada. In other words I had to get back.
I didn’t have a ticket nor could I buy one.
I started my hunt for a new ticket and found one with Iceland Air. Uhuh, via Iceland, but hardly anymore flying hours than on my original ticket. Great. After thousands of clicks I came to the checkout and was waiting for a confirmation of my payment. It didn’t come. “Card declined”. This is not what you want to hear at a time like this.
Call the bank. Apparently I had used a wrong pin code a few days ago and the card had been suspended for security reasons. I didn’t have an identifier on me so I panicked, again. I didn’t have a ticket nor could I buy one and it looked like I was about to miss the boat.
This is the moment you inner child pops up and you call you father.
This is the moment you inner child pops up and you call you father. As red as a beet I explain everything to him and I’m grateful my father is the kind of man to stay calm in situations like this and he said: “Buy a new ticket.” I booked a new ticket by phone using his credit card number setting him back SEVENHUNDREDANDFIFTY euros, I plan to repay him as soon as I get near an identifier. It’s almost as much as that pair of Manolo’s I almost bought a few days before.
750 big ones, gone, out the window and it’s my own stupid fault. I can tell you: that hurts. But money is money and has never been the most important thing in life so like May always says; “make it small and throw it out.” This will never happen to me again. How it did happen? I have no idea. But I’m positive it won’t happen to me a second time. And if so help me, it does I will punish myself by buying a new ticket and a pair of Manolo’s. That’ll teach me.
