Missing a flight to Barcelona

The “B” train from Paris splits before reaching the airport. I was blissfully unaware of this until noticing the station after the bifurcation. I had less than half an hour until boarding closed. Anyone who has tried getting a taxi in Paris knows calling is not an option; they simply do not pick up. I eyed down a driving school instructor and asked the teacher to have the student drive me to Charles de Gaulle. I expressed my anxiety and willingness to pay. He was generous in helping me, though he still had time to smoke and pocketed 40€.

On the entire journey I conceived of plans to get past security without a boarding pass. I thought of various role-playing scenarios, the best of which probably was pretending not knowing how to speak French (which isn’t too difficult) and then the same with English. I tried to download the boarding pass from online, but the check-in had closed. (I would later find the file already downloaded in my downloads folder, though that would have hardly helped.) I prayed that the flight would be delayed, or someone sympathetic would cross my path. But it was to no avail. I didn’t make it past the stands. Apparently the gates closed 10 minutes prior.

I rescheduled my flight for five hours later, which is fine especially when the city in question is Barcelona, where the night starts as Paris falls asleep. The entire affair cost an extra 135€, which is not at all grand in the affair of travelling. I was disappointed in myself for letting such an avoidable mistake happen. But I was encouraged by a short-lived and resourceful recovery whose discourse was entirely French. I was only 10 minutes late; in another luckier universe, I would be in Barcelona now. I was then heartened by a call from my housemates, who required my help to unlock them from our apartment that had become their prison. I was the only one who could help them, aside from a generally incapable housing agency. The call came at 1:45, just as my missed flight was leaving. It is helpful to believe that things happen for a reason. Perhaps that is the way to view this series of unfortunate events.