I’m no stranger to flying, but it’s been a long time since I’ve traveled internationally.
I was grateful to have a friend drive me to the airport early this morning. When I was asked, what time I wanted to arrive, my little monkey brain instantly thought an hour is plenty of time to drop my bags and bolt to my gate.
I was wrong.
Upon my arrival, I was reminded that COVID is still a thing. Every door, except one at the very end was blocked off with yellow tape, more commonly used to signal a crime scene. Oh and there was about to be one when I realized I couldn't get in where I was dropped off. As I was huffing it back to the first door, it dawned on me – you’re on an international flight ding-dong. I picked up my pace as I clumsily rolled my overstuffed bag to check-in. After standing in line on the top floor of the terminal, I get to the counter and start the process. I overhear next to me, "I'm sorry sir, you can't check in here for Aruba. The location is in the bottom of the terminal."
My inner being started shouting, "What the...son of a....piece of?!" Every cell in my body was agitated, but I was grateful I wore my Adidas for said unknown occasion. My hopeful 1 hour easy entry was quickly cut to 20 minutes. I made my way to the check in point while knocking down three adults and I'm pretty sure a medium sized child with my big ole bag. Just as I got to the Aruba check-in, it got worse before it got better.
This is the moment I realize that not only am I a sweaty mess, but I forgot to put on deodorant. Between that and trying to not pass out under my mask after running through the airport, I launch my bag onto the scale. I already knew I was over the limit (have we just met?!), but I about fell out of my sneakers and so did my little helper when we saw the scale read 74 pounds. Luckily I had the sweetest attendant helping me. She kindly said, “Oh, honey this is going to cost you a lot of money. Let’s take 4 pounds out.” Feeling the panic of the clock ticking away and I still had to go to another counter and get through security – I said, “No, thank you – I don’t have time.”
And then the overage bag cost popped up…$400.
What the...(that's twice now)! Are they for real???? The plane isn’t even full.
Without considering that my plane ticket was half of this cost, the credit card went in and out loud she said, "Oh no you didn’t?!" And shouted over to her colleague, “Oh my gosh she just paid $400 for overage charges.” The other woman comes running over saying, “No dear, no, you can’t do that. We can't let her pay this. You have plenty of time, take out 4 lbs and I’m going to reimburse you right now.”
And so there it happened…my luggage open all over the floor of the airport. I attempt to strategically remove the very items I couldn't remove the night before. After throwing them on the scale & crossing my fingers I selected the right items. I made it to 4.5 pounds as the attendant reassures me, "You're ok, we got this for you."
Do you believe in angels?
I do. These beauties were definitely sent to me for a few reasons this morning. I thanked them for their kindness, dumped off my oversized bag and bolted for security. This is where CLEAR comes in handy. You skip every line, even the TSA line! I met a third angel this morning. A gentleman saw that I was in a hurry, and escorted me through security.
After a minor backpack 'under arm' burn from my mini-jog, I made it to the gate with a few minutes to spare. Left to my own devices, I would have been out $400 and probably would have missed my flight. However, today I received grace and guidance and now I'm sitting in my bed in Aruba because of it.
When have your angels shown up for you?