Heading To Morocco

Traveling… it is a fine art… all you need to know is that there’s a starting point (the departure) and there’s an ending point (the return)… everything else in between is a giant flexing, unpredictable yarn-ball of waiting… herding lines… unexpected detours…

Day 1… A bizarre sensation hit me as I arrived at LAX… the feeling of… “EARLY.” I was a couple hours early, in fact. I think this is the first time this has happened… a real anomaly… a rip & tear in the time space continuum… I’m usually running for the gate with a personal VIP escort from security, getting hustled to the front of check-point lines, shuttled on a cart, dashing through corridors and jumping hurdles… like a Heisman trophy all-star… But this time was different. The entire airport was sleepy and empty… and I sauntered straight up to the counter to check in for my flight.

After the obligatory pleasantries and happy “bon jours” were exchanged, a major catastrophic dilemma occurred as I slid my passport to the flight attendant… everything instantly became so complicated and confusing. So much so, that 5 or 6 fellow employees, plus a supervisor, had to be called in…

Flight Attendant: “There seems to be a problem. Your passport says that your name is Michael Miller.”

Me: “Yes, that’s correct.”

Flight Attendant: “Hmm, well our records show that your ticket is reserved for “Miller Michael.”

This made me laugh (out loud) except they weren’t joking, and it took 20 minutes to sort out this hellacious disaster… Finally, everything was cleared up and I was all checked in… and then… the supervisor spoke in her professional voice… “Oh, Mr. Michael… one more thing… your flight has been delayed by 5 hours…”