So at 1.20am last night my cell phone starts ringing. Its not in the bedroom, so between getting out of bed at 534mph, my mind tells me that someone in our family has died/been in an accident/is stranded in Latvia. Imagination fueled by fear is faster than any wifi connection. Turns out that the airline that damaged our bag en-route from Canada decided it should be returned to us in the middle of the night. Nice delivery chap says, Ive got your bag, and Im ten minutes away. Its the middle of the night say I, and, as you can see its an empty bag, its only been repaired. I know, but they told me to deliver it now. He then calls three more times for directions. At 2am he arrives. I have a blissful reunion with my bag. I thank him warmly (he was just doing his job). And I stare at the ceiling, thinking mildly uncharitable thoughts about the airline....and wondering why, if fear was an Olympic sport, Id get a gold as a sprinter.....
Posted on: Wed, 15 Oct 2014 13:59:12 +0000
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