Travel & Lifestyle Freelance Writer | Market Research Consultant
You know how people all cram to get onto an airplane, standing in that long line that stretches from the back to the front of the jet as grandma hobbles into her seat, the young buff guy crams his overpacked athletic bag into the overhead compartment and moms and dads struggle to quiet their infants once they’ve located their spots? I’m really curious what would happen if the person at the back of the line pushed the person in front of her over … Dominoes?
This morning (at four fricking 30) on the way to the Denver International Airport Nicole and I were chuckling at some friends’ past misfortunes.
One had once missed a flight by mixing up 12 a.m. and 12 p.m.; another almost went to the airport two evenings in a row by confusing 12 a.m. on Wednesday with 12 a.m. on Thursday.
Both are easily made mistakes a.m. and p.m., noon and midnight. I’ve gotten them confused on other occasions, though none so catastrophic as to miss a flight.
Nicole and I got to the airport together at 5:15 but were taking different flights, so we parted ways and I went over to American Airlines to check in and print my boarding pass.
Departure: 6:10 a.m.
Boarding time: 5:40 a.m.
What?! Now it was 5:22 a.m.
Turns out I’d confused 6 a.m. with 7 a.m., which seems like it would far more difficult to do than to mix up 12 a.m. and 12 p.m.
Guess that’s what I get for rolling my eyes at others’ debacles. Damn karma.