And one I do not seem to possess.
I’m meant to be flying to Rotterdam today. I should be halfway there already. Yet here I am at Heathrow Terminal 1 still waiting to board.
We were just informed that the plane is finally at the gate and will be cleaned and refuelled with boarding to commence in half an hour. Oh, and apologies for the delay and any inconvenience caused.
I roll my eyes and groan, seething on the inside.
So I grab my tablet to write a rant, because I’m not exactly happy about this. The lack of information riles me the most. But writing now I feel myself calm down, somewhat.
I’ve rarely experienced delays in those many flights I have undertaken, nothing too bad anyway. I’d like to be able to use this time productively, but I’m not a patient person when my time is dependent on circumstances and thus I am no good at waiting. It makes me antsy and that is not conducive to writing.
I am very much battling with myself right now. But I suppose waiting for the right time to write could mean waiting for a long time.
We were just told that there was a medical emergency on the flight as well, on top of the previous delay. Clearly someone’s day is much worse than mine. I am merely inconvenienced, my time encroached upon, but otherwise quite fine.
Unfortunately this teaches me nothing about patience. Perhaps, though, about my capacity to write under less than ideal circumstances. It’s cold here, I’m tired and have all of my day’s travel still ahead of me, which makes me feel anxious.
The thing is, every time I find myself so easily riled, I know I’m not in the right place. Something is getting to me, which means I need to get away from it.
The usual suspects would be the city I live in, the very air I breathe and the job that pays my rent.
I never feel like this when I’m actually travelling (and not just flying from one European city to another) and not when I’m in the zone (which I am most definitely not in right how).
“A prayer for the wild at heart kept in cages.” Is the line that comes to mind.
Sadly, more often than not the cages are of our own making. I know mine is and I long to escape.
I will, and soon. I’m working on my escape a little bit every day. In part, of course, by writing.
PS: I will post this once I have arrived at my destination. By then I’ll just be exhausted, but likely not much happier over this delay.
PPS: I had good moments today, I’ll hold onto those despite my current moodiness.