Maybe you already know that lightening won't strike in exactly the same spot twice. That's what the science of statistics preaches. This uses the observation that there is a infinitesimally small chance of a lightning bolt striking exactly the same spot on the planet two times in succession. The objective numbers just don't allow this.
Now, having said the obvious, let me explain why I know this is nonsense. I've just proven the science of statistics to be WRONG. Oh yeah? Give me your best shot. Well, since you insist...
I need to go back in time a few days. This is impossible but I'll have to rely on my memory as best as I can. The objective facts are that I boarded a flight from Boston to Barcelona on a new startup budget airline called LEVEL airlines. It was so obscure that there were 3 different terminals listed for departure from Logan. Out of desperation, I decided to trust the information printed on my boarding pass which I had already printed out.
Terminal 5. Let's try that. Entering terminal 5 requires you go up the escalator to the departures area. I hope this works! As I stepped off the escalator, there were 3 obvious signs for...LEVEL CHECK-IN...2 for economy passengers(not me!) and 1 roped off area for PREMIUM(yup...me). So I trundle down all the way to the CHECK-IN counter, placed my bag on the conveyer belt, handed my boarding pass to the attendant and she immediately handed me a different boarding pass. The whole process probably took 90 seconds. When I examined the boarding pass, I noticed that my seat had been changed. Oh great! Budget airline misery. Oh well. My mistake.
I wait around because I got lots of time to kill. Finally I get called to board(first because I'm in the priority section) and I get directed to the left where I have to find my new seat...1 D instead of the original 5C.
What the??? There must be some mistake. This wasn't the normal PREMIUM ECONOMY section. This was what other airlines classify as BUSINESS CLASS. Lie flat seats, pillows and blankets folded on each cubby. Only 4 seats across the cabin. Water bottles already in the seat pockets. I know it's a mistake but the seat assignment matched my boarding pass. So I guess I'll just suffer through the next 8 hours.
OK. I deserve it.
I always tell others that I cannot sleep on a plane. I can't say for sure but I might have actually dozed off for 30 minutes or so after the evening meal service. Lie flat seats kind of help. This did turn out to be the best flight I've taken in 50 years though. It was what should be called "
travel nirvana" No doubt about that. So that brings us to
Barcelona the next day. I leave the airplane with a smile on my face as I say goodbye to the wonderful crew. And I walk with everyone else to snake through the passport control area for the border agent to stamp my passport before going to retrieve my bag. Just pull out my passport case, present my document, and head out to the hotel. Nothing difficult about that, right?
WELL...MAYBE. If I had my passport with me, there would be no problem. But I suddenly panicked as it was my turn to approach the person in the booth where I was directed. No doubt about it. My passport case was NOT THERE. As I rifled through my carryon bag for the 8th time, the result was still the same. No passport case! No passport. No phone card for my phone. No credit cards. And no cash that I was carrying(about $1000.00) to pay for my apartment rent in
Lucca. This simply can't happen. Suddenly I had descended into "
travel hell"...you know like the movie comedies. In order to keep the lines behind me moving the border police person in my assigned line motioned me to approach, and she obviously knew what the problem was. So she asked me for my boarding pass which, luckily, I did have. She took a photo of the boarding pass and told to me to wait in a small area of seats off to the side. I had visions of being a stateless vagrant, sleeping in a Spanish jail till someone could rescue me. This was not my idea of a good start to my trip. If there is a travel hell, I was in it! After about 15 minutes, left alone with my darkest thoughts, another police agent came up to and asked me if I was Daniel. Good sign. He told me that they found my passport case. Just wait. Maybe it will take a bit of time. Oh Allah be praised. I was headed back to to heaven. Just a brief stay in Purgatory would make me whole again.
Passport, cash, phone card, credit card
S
o, after about a 2 hour detention in the waiting area, I started to get nervous that I had been forgotten. So I summoned up the courage to ask the passport control person if anything was happening to liberate me. She disappeared for a couple minutes and then reappeared, waving my case in hand, gave it to me and asked that I check the contents to make sure everything was there. Mercifully nothing was missing. Then she proceeded to stamp my passport and she got up from her chair in the booth and personally WALKED WITH ME to the arrivals area of the terminal. There is one more twist to the saga. It is something that I hesitate to say but I still have to tell the rest of the story, no matter how much it offends some of the readers. This border guard was a stunningly beautiful young lady. So striking that even her frumpy police fatigues couldn't hide. Disney likes to weave stories around a damsel in distress being saved by a charming prince. This was a fun twist on the traditional fairy tale. I was a downtrodden old man being rescued by a beautiful border guard! What are the chances, really. Statistically speaking, close to zero.
I suppose this kind of thing can happen to lots of people. It probably does. But for me, lightening keeps hitting me in my passport case. The first "incident" struck me when I was but a young lad of 20 and attending orientation sessions before going on the biggest adventure of my life to do my Junior Year Abroad for my 3rd year of college. It was day 3 of my trip prep in New York city before I was to board a student ship for Europe. I headed back to my hotel and headed for the cafeteria to get something to eat. For some reason, I decided to check that I had everything for my trip the next day and ,of course, I DIDN'T. I was missing my entire life savings, my passport, my world health card with my vaccination records, and of course my ticket for the crossing to Europe. What are the chances? With me fairly high, I've learned. Oh well, I could get to like a hotel room in New York for a few weeks, if needed. I was so upset, I just had to go out for a walk. As I passed by the front desk, the clerk on duty stopped me and asked me my name. Satisfied it was that same guy on the passport photo, he handed me my completely intact passport case...money, passport, vaccination card, and tickets with a smile. What are the chances of lightening striking me twice?
So much for passports. Now let's advance 3 days to the recurring apartment key drama. Last year, I managed to lock myself out of my apartment without my wallet, cellphone, identity card or any contact information for the owner. Wonderful move! I was hopelessly by myself. My friend Sergio can only be contacted by phone since his doorbell doesn't work. But I couldn't call him without my phone. In desperation I headed to our local coffee shop where I hoped the guy who spoke good English(
Gabrielle)might be able to help. Luckily, he was still at the
Cafe Ninci and he wrote a note to the local police at the headquarters nearby, asking if they might be able to track down the owner.
Gabrielle, my patron saint of locked doors
Fortunately the young officer on duty took pity on me and spent 40-50 minutes trying to figure out who to contact from the apartment address and the clue that the owner used
WhatsApp.
The police station where I am now famous.
The police officer somehow managed to retrieve a photo of the owner from social media, showed it to me to verify that it was correct and then called the owner to explain my situation. She wasn't all that happy to hear about my dilemma but she did agree to come to the apartment to let me in. And she left specific instructions to put the spare key in the lockbox outside. Sure, sure. I'll NEVER be that stupid again. NEVER.
Until this year.
Yup. I did it again. Locked myself out of the apartment without my phone and with the spare key (securely sitting on the dining room table), instead of in the lockbox where we all AGREED it should be kept. And my only hope of salvation was, as usual, Gabrielle. He was getting a bit tired of me landing on his doorstep but I really had no one else to turn to. Once again he wrote a note to the police. Once again, the police were able to track down the owner via WhatsApp, and once again the owner agreed to send someone to let me in. Just wait a couple hours outside the apartment until someone can get there.
Gabrielle's note was so classic that I include it here with my loose translation so you can feel everyone's fatigue at dealing with me. Here goes...
"My name is Daniel, citizen of the USA. I closed the door of my apartment with the key inside(as well as my cellphone). Please help me! Address of the apartment
Via Del Fosso, #31.
Last year they were successful in locating the owner via WhatsApp. Excuse Me!
That's the sad story.
Deja vu all over again as the great
Yogi Berra used to say.
Happily, there was a successful contact made AGAIN via WhatsApp. Predictably, the owner wasn't all that happy but she did send an angel of mercy to rescue me once again. About 2 hours later, yet another fair damsel appeared to unlock the door and immediately went on with other more important work. And, yes, once again thus young lady was strikingly attractive. What are the chances? Statistically speaking...this was impossible. But in reality, since I didn't have my phone ready to take a photo, you'll just have to take my word for it.
That's my story...and I'm stickin to it.
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