“Your problem is not my problem,” the snarky voice echoed through my ears, the next thing I heard was the tone of the phone hanging up.
Thirty minutes, it takes thirty minutes to get from my apartment to the JFK Airport. Forty five minutes, that’s how much time I have until my flight leaves for London, and my life is over.
I ran into my room and threw my whole drawer of clothes in a suitcase. The stark voice reverberated in my ears, a chilling reminder that time was not on my side. I grabbed my suitcase, and threw myself and it down the stairs. Every second counted. I opened the door out of my apartment and jumped into my car. The drive to the airport was a race against fate, a test of willpower against the ticking clock.
The cityscape rushed past, a blur of lights and shadows. My gaze was fixed on the dashboard clock, each passing minute a cruel reminder of the dwindling time. The minutes felt like fleeting sand slipping through my fingers. I couldn’t afford to let them slip away.
I swerved through lanes, navigating the labyrinth of cars with the expertise of a seasoned nascar driver. My knuckles were white against the wheel of the car, my breaths shallow and rapid. Every red light seemed like an eternity, each green one a momentary reprieve.
I reached the Airport. I had ten minutes, and no time to waste. I found the closest parking spot and sped my car into the spot. My tires screeched as I jumped out. The terminal was a blur of faces, each one a potential obstacle in my path. I dodged and weaved through the crowd, my eyes fixed on the illuminated signs guiding me to salvation.
Finally, there it was—Gate 27. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached, praying that I hadn’t missed the call. The attendants were already preparing for departure. I thrust my passport and crumpled ticket at them, desperation etched on my face.
“Please, you have to let me on!” I implored, my voice raw.
They exchanged a glance, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, one of them gestured urgently for me to board. I stumbled down the gangway, the roar of the engines drowning out the pounding in my chest.
I sat down in my seat. I made it. I let out a sigh of relief as I buckled up, and prepared myself for takeoff.