An 8:40pm flight on the Friday of Labor Day weekend. A nightmare, right? I normally do everything possible to avoid such an obviously terrible flight time. Between the crowds of people trying to leave the city, the crowds of people trying to get to the airport, and the crowds of people who aren’t used to flying and therefore take forever with each step of the flying process, I was sure the ordeal would be awful.
Then, to make it even more stressful, I decided to leave too late for the airport so that if I had to wait too long for the bus, or the traffic to the airport was bad, or the lines at security were horrible, I’d miss my flight. Just to make it more interesting, you know, since I already have the worst luck known to humankind.
Despite all experience and expectations pointing to me either missing my flight or having a ridiculously frustrating trip, I somehow wandered into a parallel universe where I did everything wrong and yet everything turned out okay. The bus arrived fairly quickly. There was hardly any traffic on the way to the terminal. There were 2 people ahead of me at security. I arrived at the gate just as boarding took place. The plane landed early.
I think it was the moon. On the ride to the airport, I looked out the window and saw the huge moon hovering in the sky and thought about 1Q84, where the moon signifies this other world where things are the same and yet different. It was just another holiday weekend in New York, and yet, it wasn’t. It was a once-in-a-blue-moon type of occurrence that turned the worst flight ever into a regular one. But I’m not going to question whether I’ve entered a parallel universe because I don’t really care–if this universe allows me to take an uneventful flight, I can handle anything else it presents.