I stare at my phone’s clock. My watch isn’t accurate enough for situations like this. Up the street I look for the bus, the one with the happy-looking dog on it. It’s 3:22, and the bus was supposed to be there a minute ago. Normally I wouldn’t expect that sort of on-time performance, but this is Japan we’re talking about.
Finally the bus comes at 3:26. Five whole minutes late, maybe enough to completely sink me. I take a seat next to the door, poised to bolt as soon as we get to the station. The same traffic that made the bus late continues to slow it down, and I get to the train station seven agonizing minutes late.
I run from the bus to the station, tap my card, and bolt up the stairs to the Yamanote line. The train is there, so I have a split-second to choose: do I commit to that route, which would get me to the airport at 4:41, or do I take the Narita Express which will get me there at 4:53, guaranteed?
My flight leaves at 5:15, and I decide that 4:53 is probably not early enough, given that I have to go through passport control. Damn. I jump into the subway car and commit to the 4:41 train.
No amount of staring at my phone helps. I arrive at the transfer station just one minute after the train leaves. Now I’ll get in at 5:01, which is absolutely too late. I’m missing my plane for sure.
I barely ever miss planes. I’ve cut it close a few times, but have maybe only missed a flight five times or so in my life. This is the first time I’ve missed an international flight.
At this point there is exactly one real option available to me: I can roll with the punches. Sometimes it feels like there are other options, but none of them are likely to get me home. So I take a deep breath, remind myself that being stressed or upset will only make things worth, and I relax. The tension of watching the clock is gone.
I think about my immediate plans. I’m supposed to spend twelve hours in San Francisco, and then head home to Vegas at eleven. I have a couple things planned for my day in San Francisco, but nothing absolutely critical. Getting to Vegas late wouldn’t be a huge deal, either.
Okay, so one way or another, I’m going to end up in Vegas. So there’s no problem, really. I’m in Tokyo, I’m going to end up in Vegas, and my job is to clear the best path between those two places as possible. It would be easy to feel like I was stranded or helpless, but I already know I’m going to end up at home.
My next step is to get on a plane while taking the least damage possible. No point in thinking of the flight I’m going to miss, and no point trying to get back as fast as possible. Those are the actions of a panicked person. A rational one would just try to end up home as cheaply as possible.
I end up having to pay $100, which I think I may be able to get retroactively waived. Maybe not, but that’s not so bad. After all, I should have checked my transit schedules much earlier. A hundred bucks isn’t a bad price to pay for that lesson.
And now I’m on a plane. It’s a middle row, and the guy next to me isn’t exactly svelte, but I’m on my way home. And I got lucky– this flight arrives only an hour later, so my plans didn’t get interrupted.
That’s how you roll with the punches. You remind yourself that it’s not such a big deal, and get yourself into a mental state to make the decisions you’ll have to make. You figure out what outcome is really important to achieve, and then you methodically make decisions to get there. You’ll take some hits, but you can deal with them, and the whole thing will eventually become just a footnote in your past.
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Photo is some incredible Gyokuro I had at Higashiya in Ginza, Tokyo.
Just arrived at Brest, France on the cruise. Shout-out to readers Kevin and Anna, who also just happen to be on the ship.
Pretty much done with my next book. Going to use the next few days to flesh out a few gaps. Editing might take a while, but hoping to have it out in July.
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