Struggle to unfold the stroller that you finally closed, hoof it to the gate— wait. Which gate? Where’re your passport and boarding pass?
t’s something no one in their right mind should ever, ever do, but the majority of the population have not only done it once, they are already planning to do it again.
Imagine if Wilbur and Orville Wright had been less ambitious. Bicycle mechanics was probably a roaring trade back in the early 1900s. The brothers should have been happy with that and set their sights far, far lower. On the ground.
Over a century later, and this is what you’re doing, for fun. For a vacation.
You arrive at the airport a mess, even before your trip has actually started. Your taxi was, and eight minutes into the ride you checked for your passports for the 15th time and couldn’t find them, so the taxi drove you home again, and you charged around like a maniac looking in the microwave and under the tablecloth only to find them in the second-to-back inside pocket of your handbag where you’d carefully placed them after deciding that the back pocket wasn’t good enough. And then you’d stuffed everything back into your handbag while running down the stairs and forgot to triple lock the door, so you’d asked the taxi driver to go back again.
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