She’s got a ticket
Things had been going so smoothly – the nice chat with the enthusiastic cab driver on the way to the airport, a heartfelt farewell from my friends who’d helped me pack the last remnants of my stuff and made me let go of the paperclips I was still clinging onto – that I was surprised when I found out that my flight to Canada had been delayed by 6 hours. It slightly popped the romantic bubble I had of myself defiantly stepping onto the airplane and jetting out in movie-style fashion. So long England!
It meant a LOT of hanging out at the airport. Much more than I’m used to but of course, not as much as the airport staff. As I sat in the lounge area watching people drift in and out of Duty Free stores like fish in a tank, I wondered if this was a sign that I should rethink my decision to move to Canada. If the universe was offering me this moment to change my mind and stay in London where I have great friends and a job. Was the universe confirming a tiny, niggling doubt I had that it’s a stupid idea to leave the life you know and face starting out again in a new city? As I saw several planes take off and land I worried this might be my chance to save myself from a potentially death-bound flight because, obviously, if it was delayed so long there must have been something wrong with the plane, which meant that we were going to fall out of the sky half way across the Atlantic once it finally took off. Facebook messages and texts from friends kept me going with the thought that ‘I can’t suddenly NOT go after all the fuss I’ve made about leaving and, anyway, that’s not how movies work.’