I spent the last several hours today in an airport waiting for my delayed flight. Spokane is notorious for winter fog, and today was no exception. I sat an extra 3.5 hours for a flight that should have left at 3:00 and instead left at 6:30.
Usually, under these circumstances, I’m managing a whole series of emotions, most of them revolving around some anxiety at the change. I don’t see any real danger, but if I had planned a certain way for a day to unfold, I will be frustrated at the inconvenience and now in a mildly agitated state. I will be concerned about food, about snacks, about water, about late arrivals, ad nauseam.
Instead, I felt overall relaxed. I bumped into an old friend. I read. I sat and watched people in the airport and I thought back to probably my most memorable "delayed" experience, interestingly, shared with the friend I was traveling to see.
We all went to a Sting concert years ago at the Gorge in central Washington. The concert got out around 11 pm and we made our way back to the car. Turns out, we'd locked our keys in our car. Due to the way they clear the lots after a show, we had to wait until the lot was completely empty before we were able to get help.
So long past midnight, the individual responsible to make rounds in the parking lot made his way to our car. His little patched-together Honda Civic stopped by our car, and he began digging through his assortment of tools to help us get our car unlocked. He wasn't successful so we had to wait for a tow truck. Another hour.
Finally, the tow truck arrived along with someone with more advanced skills in breaking into cars. He was annoyed we didn't have the full $35 fee in cash. We wrestled up about $20 in coins and random bills then had to write a check for $15. Do you have any idea how many bounced checks are in my cash register? he railed, waving our check around. Dozens! I could paper a bathroom with them all. I shouldn't even help you out.
We weakly said we were different, that we were good for it, realizing how weak that sounded. He opened the door and got our keys out, ordeal over. He drove off, frustrated, but at least I knew the check was in fact good, and he'd be paid fully for his services.
As the hours had rolled by late that night, we'd entertained ourselves in various ways. We played frisbee (our friend's car was open and had supplies), we talked, we laid on the grass and located stars, we talked. We did everything but get frantically worried. It was a brief moment of being present and transcendent, something I wish I could have embraced and adopted as a way of life beyond that warm summer evening with friends.
So here I was again, waiting, timelines and plans adjusted. I don't know that anything somewhat magical happened like before, spending hours on a hot July night on the edge of the Columbia River under stars with friends, but I started off a weeklong vacation relaxed instead of rattled, just happy to finally fly out to warmer climes.
More and more, I am trying to embrace each moment, however average they seem. I've finally realized the danger in looking ahead or to the back. Whatever is happening in the moment, it's never as awful as longing for something else.
“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.” - Henry David Thoreau