I thought I was ready for the adventure to begin when I took this selfie seated on the flight that was to take me to Toronto where I’d connect with the rest of the team and then head to Beijing. I had left the house before sun up, managed to find long-term parking after Google Maps led me astray, and arrived at the airport 2 hours later. When I went to the security check point, not a single person was in front of me, not one person.

Wow, this is my day.

Surfing Facebook on my phone and sipping on a decaf coffee, I sent a flurry of texts to Mark when security went bananas over a duffle bag this girl left unattended for 4 minutes under her seat. I thought it was funny, a little crisis to get my adventure started.

When they told us we were returning to the gate and then deboarding the plane, I started to worry. I had a plane to catch out of Toronto.

I will take charge, yes, yes, I will.

I left the plane and marched right over to the desk. I waited there watching the minutes pass until the women with fancy bows around their necks agreed. The 6 people on that flight connecting to go to Asia weren’t going to make their flights. No worry, they told me, they’d put us on the later flight to Toronto, put us up at a hotel for the night, and fly us out on the afternoon flight the next day.

No, that isn’t going to work. Get me to Beijing today.

Perhaps the intensity in my eyes became apparent because I found three Chinese nationals, a young dating couple and a man of about 50, standing a few feet behind me saying, “What she said.” They’d pull our bags, shuttle the four of us and two women headed to a vacation in Tokyo to JFK, and fly us out direct via a different airline. Fine. Not happy, but fine. I’d arrive a couple hours later than expected but at least I’d get there.

When the six of us already weary pilgrims gathered around a deserted carousel to await our bags which looked disappointed themselves when they came out upside down and backwards, we started to loosen up a bit. And as minutes waiting for our shuttle became hours, we consoled each other and kept our spirits up, taking turns guarding our impatient luggage for restroom breaks and getting to know each other. When my walk and sweet talk in the Air Canada office led to meal vouchers for all, the wayward crew applauded my heroism. “We need to stick with her! You know how to get the job done!” “All you gotta do is ask,” I told them with a smile.

With little time to spare, the shuttle arrived. He had gone to the wrong pickup and had been waiting for us while we waited for him. We all sort of chuckled about it as you do when you think you should and got settled into the van that would be our new first (?) leg of our journeys. Over the river and through the China Town, Brooklyn, and Queens woods, our driver dropped us off at our terminal and wished us a pleasant journey.

Phew. We made it.

This way, everybody, over here.

All smiles and relief that we’d make it after all, each one of us with a good reason why we had to get there as planned. When the lovely Air China supervisor looked at the ticket I had and those of my friends and then told us she couldn’t help us because we didn’t actually have tickets, my polite chuckle was history.

Mark, get Air Canada on the phone. Now. 20-30 minute wait? Help me, now. Do something. They won’t. Oh my gosh. I might lose it here. Luftansa Air lady, whatever the heck airline you work for, no one cares, help me. You can’t help me? Someone help me! What do you mean the flight is full? Are we on there or not? They’re boarding already? We haven’t even gone through security, security in New York, mind you. We’re not making this flight, are we? They told us in Newark we were on this flight, that there were seats. What is the problem? Get us boarding passes. Take my bag!

The intensity in my eyes? Yeah, not really doing a thing at this point. My “all you gotta do is ask” philosophy? Yeah, I asked. Like 20 times. That pretty Chinese lady with the stern look wasn’t changing her answer. She needed something or other from Air Canada, and that was that. “Next customer.”

Mark got through after holding for 30 minutes. My friends Ellen and Chris also got through. Poor Jeff was at our mercy, unable to even get a connection on his phone. The number! That’s the enumber! Write it down! Fast! Got it! Chris grabs my paper with theirs and somehow manages to get Jeff’s number too and shows them all to the stern little lady behind that big desk, using my pen to point out each number with emphasis as if the pointer might help her process things faster.

“Let me see your passport, please. Are you checking this bag?” She says calmly as if we had just walked up and the last 30 minutes of sheer panic from one short white girl and three Chinese people following her had just been erased.

YES! YES! I’m checking this bag! Do I have a boarding pass? Is this my ticket? Is that all I need? Can I go? Can I go now?

My three new friends literally applauded and congratulated me on my win of 34C. Two steps into my full-on sprint to security, I hesitated.

Should I wait for you?
No, no. We’ll meet you there.

Off to security. Long line. Of course.

“Do I still need my passport? Should I leave this out?”
“Put it away until you need it again.”

There’s that chuckle again. Wait, that wasn’t a joke. What in the world? Really? I shrug off the Northern hospitality of New Yorkians as I continue to my sprint to Gate 8.

I made it. I can’t believe I made it.

Texting Mark to let him know I wouldn’t be calling him in tears, I scoured the crowd of black haired heads for my friends. I was nearly ready to board when I literally jumped up and down when I saw Chris as if we were old college buddies reuniting after 10 years (okay…more like 15).

Where’s Ellen and Jeff?

Ellen’s coming?…wait, what? Jeff didn’t make it?

After I had sprinted for security and left the others, little miss China congeniality told the three of them there were only two tickets left available. When a decision had to be made right away, Jeff, the man who had taken his vacation days to visit his mother still living in Beijing, bowed out, humbly taking whatever they might offer him which likely was nothing much so that the young couple still had a fighting chance to stay on course and arrive in Beijing only a few hours after originally planned.

As I sit in the bulkhead seat right now that God mercifully provided to me, waiting for my Tylenol PM to do its thing, I’m wanting to take this thin little blue blanket on my lap and make it into a superhero cape for Jeff wherever he is right now.

Wow, this is my day.

An adventure before even leaving U.S. soil.

On to China without my pen.