18 July 2008

The (Travel) Gods Have Spoken

(written Wednesday, about 6:30 p.m.)

I enjoyed a pleasant flight to Johannesburg from Gaborone – I was pushing the fact that I was leaving far to the back of my mind, and I was preoccupied with engaging in discussion with the person sitting next to me. This man was also from the United States, and had a job which entailed travelling about Africa; he had just been to Botswana for the first time and for a short, three-day stay. He immediately recognized my Deerfield Academy drawstring backpack, and mentioned that he knew someone who went to Deerfield. I was really chuffed, and we talked for the entire flight. I mentioned that I was really sad to leave, and he asked me why I was so smiley, then. I replied that the fact that I was leaving hadn't sunken in yet, and I said that in the middle of my Heathrow layover I'd probably burst into tears and have the whole terminal looking at me funny. We landed, our goodbyes, and descended from the plane, boarding the shuttle which would take us to the airport from South African Airline's hangar. I stood, gazing out the window, repressing depressing thoughts of leaving, and mindlessly feeling in my bag to ensure the presence of my passport…
"MY PASSPORT!!" I thought. I elbowed my way off of the shuttle, as the doors were closing (it was all very dramatic) and dashed to our airplane.
"I think…I left…my passport," I gasped. The airline attendant handed the familiar USA-crested booklet to me. I visually relaxed with relief and, much chagrined, returned to the shuttle, which had waited for me (one of the ups of a small, African airport, is that they wait for you). I walked on, saying out loud by mistake, "That was embarrassing." The man who had sat next to me grinned at me as I waved my passport.
I smiled as I explained, "I guess the travel gods didn't want me to leave, either."

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