I can’t sleep.
It’s 12:29am and I am sitting in a hotel room in Saskatoon, wide-eyed and unable to doze off for the night. Granted, the night is ending soon – relatively speaking. In about 5 hours, I’ll be sitting on a plane which will take me to Minneapolis, and in under 12 hours, I’ll be on another plane about to leave for Tokyo.
I’m not nervous about my trip. I’m actually more nervous about sleeping through my alarms (as I’ve been doing lately) and missing a wake-up call needed to get to the airport on time to make my flights. Missing a flight is my eternal fear – reinforced by a lifetime of movies and TV shows where it’s a mad dash to the air terminal where people just get through the security line in time to barely get to the gate before the door closes.
In reality, I’ve only ever come close to missing a flight twice in my life – once in a rather inconvenient fashion after sleeping through an alarm, causing me to speed to the airport only to walk past the president of the company I worked for in the terminal – unkempt and looking like I had just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-grabbed-the-least-dirty-clothes-on-the-floor-I-could-find. The other instance wasn’t my fault at all, but the ill-fated timing of a connection at Denver’s airport which had Chris, our friend Chris and I running through the terminal jussssst to get to the gate as they were making the final boarding call.
I don’t want the first domino in a three month trip to Japan to be the one I screw up.
So, I’m resigned to staying awake. With nearly 14 hours in the sky ahead of me (12 of those en route from Minneapolis to Tokyo,) I figure I can sleep when I get up to 40,000 feet.
Here’s hoping I don’t doze off, head falling in to my keyboard, with the imprint of the home row and the trackpad firmly emblazoned on my face.