The young girl who checked me in at the Delta gate couldn't believe I was only checking my one backpack. "This is all you've got until August?" she asked. "Honey, you are definitely not a female."
Through security, I was already in travel mode, right hand instinctively reaching to pat my passport pocket. Then the Delta voice came onto the intercom. First it was a possible delay, then probable re-bookings, then a definite mechanical failure on our flight, the very last one out of RDU. After a couple of long conversations with a KLM Royal Dutch representative, and the help of a very nice lady named Julie at the Delta desk, I was re-booked for the next day. They even gave me my bag back.
Patrick was nice to turn around on I-40 and head back to RDU. So here I am now, sitting in High Point on a day I expected to be far from it, back in my own bed when I expected seat 36D.
And I'm off again now, through Greensboro, Detroit, Amsterdam, Nairobi, Bujumbura, and finally Kigali, Rwanda. Here's hoping I make it off the runway this time.
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