It Really Was A Very Good Day

I was recently flying the friendly skies from Evansville to Chicago on my way to Phoenix.

It was an easy flight, and midway the flight attendant announced the gate numbers for our connecting flights.

I had a leisurely layover, and about 30 minutes before my flight was scheduled to depart, I stood up to get in line for the boarding process. When the flight attendant announced the flight number, things took a bad turn. I checked my boarding pass, and my flight number didn't match hers. When I asked, she said that my flight was leaving from a different terminal. "Where?" I stammered. She pointed, and I started running down the concourse.

I ran to the main part of terminal three, and then stopped. I had no idea which way to go. A young TSA worker was heading my direction, and I told him my problem. He said I needed to be in terminal one. "Where is that?" I asked, half crying. He pointed and then got on his phone to find information about my gate.

We both started running.

We ran through terminal three together, and then he led me to terminal two. Midway through that terminal, he said, "You aren't going to make it. Find a ticket agent, and get rescheduled on a different plane."

I thought, "How do you know I'm not going to make it?" And I kept running.

He stayed with me until we entered terminal one. Then he gave me directions: "See the dinosaur?" "Yes." "Take a left, go down the escalator, go across, take an escalator back up, and your gate is on the left."

Still running, carrying a bag, gasping for breath, I followed his directions.

I caught sight of my gate sign, and that gave me a little more adrenaline. I turned the corner, and saw three flight attendants but NO passengers. I waved my boarding pass, and yelled, "Can I still get on this plane?"

I heard the word "sure."

One of the attendants took a look at my red face and heard me panting for air, and said, "WHERE did you come from?" Too exhausted to reply, I said, "Can I get on the plane?" She nodded towards the ramp, and I headed towards my plane.

During the three-hour flight I thought about the coincidence of having two flights heading to one city, both leaving about noon. And I tried to catch my breath.

We landed in Phoenix, and I was deep in thought as I walked through the terminal. As I came out of my daze a bit, I looked ahead through the gaggle of passengers and saw a bobble of pink. I looked a little closer, and realized the bobble of activity was my granddaughters, jumping up and down with excitement.

If I could have run I would have. I walked to them, and knelt down. I hugged them very tightly -- with big tears in my eyes at the way my day had turned out.

Isn't that the way our lives are? Sometimes we are so complacent, so sure of where we are heading -- when there is no reality to it.

Sometimes we are running full out with no expectation that we will actually reach our destination, but we are hopeful about the outcome.

And sometimes in a sea of people, we spot tiny children wearing pink tutus who are excited beyond words to see us.

What a day that was.

It was a wonderful day. It truly was.

And the next day? I could hardly walk!