Flightless in Seattle

This morning, I was supposed to fly home from Seattle to Boise. I say supposed to because I missed my flight. My late-checked bag--the reason I didn't make the flight--actually got onto the plane and arrived home before me. Obviously, the next time I travel, I will make sure to allow two whole hours at the airport before departure.

I'm not an anxious flyer. I am an anxious pre-flyer. What that means is that I'm not scared to get on the dang plane and fly, I'm just scared that I'll miss my flight and get stranded somewhere. Or...I was scared of that. I'm not anymore. I missed a flight just this morning, and yet both I and my bags made it home just fine. The bag was on the flight I missed, and I was on the following flight four hours later. One swipe of the credit card and I was confirmed for a new flight. Silly me...I knew that if you missed one airplane, you'd eventually be able to catch another one. But the details of what you do when this happens were what made me anxious. "Help, I'm stranded! Whatever shall I do?" (Let me explain here that I'm not that helpless, but I hadn't flown anywhere since before 9-11, and I've only flown once before by myself--a direct flight from Boise to Spokane clear back in the very early 90's. Now I have a much better idea of what to do, of course.) But literally, I was ready to collapse when I found that my plane had left without me. I must have looked like some kind of wreck, and I know I felt like one. I need a private jet, so it can't leave without me when I'm late!

Now that the hypothetical disaster has happened, I'm not so worried about it. I wouldn't like it to happen again, but...I can handle it if it does. Where was my personal assistant when I needed her? Oh, yeah, that would be me. I am so fired.