Traveling rarely ever goes smoothly. Some trips are better than others, but somewhere along the line, something goes awry. On Friday night I settled into a seat in the LAX terminal with my kleenex, a cup of tea, and motivation to get some work done. I checked my ticket one more time; departure, 10:40. “So with the time change that is 11:40 on my watch.” I thought to myself. Yet 11:40 came and went and I still casually sipped my tea, clicking on selections of footage, dragging them to the timeline, thinking about what songs to use. Then I lurched. Shit. It’s midnight. I leaped up, wrapped my laptop cable around my arm, threw my bag over my shoulder, and legged it. My GoPro was under one arm, my laptop, case, and corde under the other, tea precariously sloshing at arms leg as I sprinted through the terminal. “Are you Hunt?”
“Where have you been, we’ve been paging you? You’re back won’t make it, but we’ll still let you on.”
Phew. That was a close call. And I look like a hot mess. I was sat in a window seat, as I made the walk of shame, breathless, sweaty, and belongings stuffed around me like a Christmas stocking. I squeezed by the two people sitting in my aisle and attempted to organize my mess. Note to self: next time, change your watch.
PS. I did make it to Sydney, and so did my bag! However, we did break down on the M5 approximately 2 minutes outside of the airport. Sigh.