I like to comment “it’s a sign” whenever remotely applicable to my situation, like when I trip on the way somewhere I don’t want to go or when the essay I’ve just printed slips onto the trash can. Attributing my own incompetence to a higher power’s interference is incredibly validating. Highly recommend.
So while I do often point out omens, they’re usually subtle if not forced. In contrast, the ones I encountered yesterday were more on the shovel-to-the-face end of the spectrum.
Yesterday, I flew directly from DFW to Korea’s Incheon International Airport. I’ve flown internationally before—nearly every year, in fact—but never solo. (I wasn’t nervous because I’d been actively not thinking about the trip, which is an effective method until you realize it’s the night before and you need to think about something to pack for it.) Theoretically, this trip should’ve been a similar experience, but the sheer amount of foreshadowing would beg to differ.
Signs of a Rocky Road Ahead
- Accidentally cutting over a hundred people in line at airport check-in. I’d gone through the kiosks and thought the behemoth of a line was for the information desk to the right, so I walked directly up to the counter and had almost finished checking in when a man began to loudly complain about me to an employee.
- I immediately left the counter, apologized to the man (who wouldn’t make eye contact,) and made the walk of shame past the hundred people I’d just cut. I always feel like strangers are glaring at me; this time I was actually right.
- When I made it to the front of the line again, the man at the counter really said “Welcome back.” Hard to tell if I wanted to cry or laugh.
- Boarding the plane and flight attendants already start mistaking me for Korean. Until I open my mouth to take an obnoxious American breath, that is.
- Lifting my eye mask to find a woman passed out on the aisle floor a row behind me. Flight attendants started crowding around her and calling for passengers who were medical professionals. They didn’t find any and put an oxygen mask on her, and we all waited until she woke up. (Word of advice: Don’t get sick on a plane.)
- Smelling smoke and gaslighting myself. I’d chalked it up to my overactive imagination until two attendants busted open one of the bathrooms—it’d been occupied every time I’d passed—and berated the passenger over the intercom for smoking.
- “Uh, just a reminder that you CANNOT smoke on the flight. You can’t smoke because… If you smoke, you’ll get fined.”
- 5:30PM. Getting handed cup noodles for dinner. They poured hot water and everything. Unreal.
- Getting scammed out of breakfast. Apparently, the turbulence had been too strong for flight attendants to safely serve us our last meal. We were still full from cup noodles, yeah, and the food wouldn’t have been any good, but the only thing worse than free bad food is not being given the choice of free bad food.
I cut the list off here not due to constraints on my cache of unfortunate events—these are just ones from the plane, as once I disembarked I spent an hour looking for the university shuttle despite being right next to the stop most of the time—but out of respect for your time. I continue to generate material as long as I make a fool of myself, so it looks like I’ll be able to comfortably sustain this blog for a while. Catch you next week.
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