I thought airports were dead in the pandemic?
By: Rick Martinez
Tags: Hopes And Dreams, Email Marketing, Writers Life, Life Lessons, Creative Writing

I was standing in the terminal sweating…

As I watched them pull the boarding gate away and close the plane door…

And all I could think was this one dang thought.

“If I had just been LITERALLY sixty seconds faster.”

Knowing you just missed your flight is one thing.

But knowing you just missed your flight to go home after being away for 8 months, overseas, by one darn minute is quite another.

The days, hours, and then minutes leading up to that day, that flight, we’re filled with anticipation, butterflies in the gut, and just an overall feeling of giddiness a person gets knowing they get to be home for Christmas.

The story leading up to that moment is pretty standard.

There wasn’t an issue with hot water in the hotel… No delayed check out issues… The gate wasn’t changed at the last minute…

Nope.

None of that.

It actually started while I was sitting on the previous connecting flight.

It was that flight that was delayed forty-five minutes due to snow first. Then it was de-icing the wings, then it was the snowplow removing snow from the tarmac because we had been delayed by snow and then the de-icing.

Oi vey.

So heading into Amsterdam for my connecting flight, I was literally counting the minutes I had to get through customs, past passport checks, and then to the very opposite side of the airport for my international flight back to the US.

That’s where it all began.

The question was…is this also the place where it all ends?

So I sprinted.

I fuggin ran as OJ did in the old Hertz commercials…hurdling suitcases, dodging past other travelers, and praying as I ran that they’d realize little Ricky wasn’t on board.

But they didn’t.

I finally made it to the gate and literally watched the gang-way begin to pull away from the plane, and then THIS happened.

It stopped pulling back…

I kid you not, it totally stopped, and for a second, my heart did too…

The lady at the gate looked at me with eyes that said, “I’m trying to get you checked in, Ricky boy.” At the same time, her partner at the gate looked at me and said, “Mr. Martinez, you will not be making this flight.” I didn’t know who to believe, so I simply hoped and prayed that the jet-way bridge was indeed halted because the pilot was looking for me in my empty seat.

And then the pilot came off the plane…

I schitt you not!

He de-planed, walked up to the ticketing area, looked at me. We both shrugged our shoulders, and he re-boarded the plane.

WTF is exactly going on here, I thought to myself?

Is there a hidden camera somewhere and my homies from the US waiting to jump out and say I’ve been punked?

And as that thought of getting punked floated outta my head, a THIRD person emerged from a door outta nowhere, and she told me to

“Come, come, come quickly, we are waiting for you!” in a heavy Danish accent.

So I ran…

Ran right after her, and as I passed the boarding checkpoint, the stewardess holding my passport and boarding ticket simply stuck her hand out, like a sprinter handing the baton, and I never missed a step.

Made it.

They stowed my bags, asked me to buckle up, the Captain peeked out of the front, shot me a thumbs up, and we began to back away from the gate.

I made it.

Still sweating, I honestly didn’t care because I was headed home.

Texas.

Home for Christmas.

The moral of this?

It would have been easy to complain.

Yell… Scream… Hissy fit…

But why?

I chose hope and continued seeking that little glimmer of light, even though it seemingly dimmed at each passing moment.

Keep your head up.

There’s always a glimmer of hope.

That nurse who writes a lot,

Rick “got to see Santa” Martinez