How being late made me look ambitious

I like being busy. I like to feel the adrenaline increase and spread throughout my body as the time of the expiration of any deadline comes closer, and closer. It makes me feel alive. Which is probably why I like to book last minute trips and rush to the airport. I timed myself yesterdaytwo feet towards the Orly airport to catch my plane to Rome, so I wanted to cut it as close to the deadline as possible to beat my record of 1,30 hours of commuting (metro + bus + Orlyval). (On a sidenote, despite this mentality, the trip from taking the first step into the metro to the Orly airport until the bus that took me back home from the Fiumicino airport lasted a total of 9 hours!!!).

Which led me to miss my 16h40 flight. But here is the best thing about me. I can sneak my way through any situation because, for some reason I can’t fathom, I have a great sense of timing. Case in point: my university application for a master’s at Paris II. One day, I literally woke up and told myself I would fill out an application for an M1 at Paris 2 because I wanted to widen my career options. I visited their site only to discover the application process had started since January (it was March) and the deadline was just a week away. Did I panic? No I didn’t, and I got all the materials in on the day of the deadline. I hand delivered them, and the secretary looked at me enigmatically. I said something on the lines of « I wanted to make sure my application was flawless » to which she smile and said « That’s the dedication we are looking for. »

Similar situation at the airport. They had closed the check in table, or so did the man standing at the counter tell me. I pretended to go away, devastated, but I just stood right outside his peripheral view, trying to come up with a quick scheme to get on that plane. Suddenly a woman goes up to him to ask for some information, and I take that moment to zip onto another counter and chat with the nice young gentleman working it. I told him how that other man had addressed me to him in order to put me on the next plane to Rome. He looked at me trivially, at which moment I panicked and did the only thing I do best. Smile like it was the best day of my life. The sucker bought it like candy, and I had a first class ticket on Alitalia for Fiumicino. Ok, it’s only a two hour flight, BUT they served me wine and peanuts, while everyone else sitting miles of rows behind me suffered two crying babies and the noise of the turbine. They should have been late.

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~ par gitane sur 28 juillet 2011.

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