Nightmares of bad beats from the previous night’s game of poker haunted me till reality converged and I woke up. With the phone alarm failing me and a recurring back spasm acting up, I almost gave up on the formality of reaching the airport. When the semi pleased counter assistants said they have closed the counters, i couldn’t feel my balls.
An absurd quote for the next flight is thrown at me when I am already feeling the pain of losing my missed-flight virginity.
With a bruised pride and tail between the legs, I pay up. I convince myself that the promise of spending time with old buddies is way more valuable than a few (more than a few) trampled notes.
I buy a coffee and watch the people get their boarding passes, waiting for my next flight. I click pictures and Instagram them, hoping for some social sympathy. It doesn’t come. Instead, questions like ‘how could you?’ needle me.
I have now found a comfy couch to sleep till it’s time for the next flight. I also have a hammer hanging above my head connected to an ingenious alarm system.
It’s time for redemption.