Left at 2:30 am on Thursday, the 13th, for my 6 am Delta flight from Daytona Beach Airport to my favorite City in the world, New York. Florida had been having heavy rains so I was not surprised when sheriffs detoured me off I-95 onto an unfamiliar exit ramp. My main concern now was, “Where the h-ll am I?” With my loyal GPS, Waze, frantically attempting to place me back on the road I had just left I felt helpless. It was pitch black and due to the flooding I was unsure where the shoulder of the road began and ended.
As I snaked my way down the road I noticed a sheriff car appear in my view. I quickly u-turned, rolled down my window, and asked for directions. Noting my concern the sheriff told to me to follow him then turn left at the end of the road. I gratefully complied.
After our departure I found myself following a caravan of trucks. At this time I also noticed my gas gauge at 1/8 of a tank. Florida has few 24 hour gas stations and I was concerned. When signs for I-95 appeared I breathed a sigh of relief.
Hoping for smooth sailing once on I-95, I found further disappointment as I missed the ramp in the darkness. With Waze redirecting me at a cost of an additional 20 miles I quickly glanced at the white gas gauge pump which had now turned yellow. I was beside myself considering the gas situation and plane departure in 1 hour 45 minutes.
With the new directions my pace quickened and soon I was within 5 miles of destination. As the airport exit neared I slowed to ensure appropriate egress and a 24 hour gas station appeared at the end of the ramp. I topped the tank to the brim and looked to the sky. In the horizon were airport lights which I followed. I arrived. Whew!
Upon locating long term parking I removed my bag, locked the car and made the short walk to the terminal. Daytona Beach Airport is a delightful small, older airport similar in size and friendliness to that of Bangor, Maine. Once inside I obtained my ticket from the computer and breezed through TSA. As I refastened my spanking new fanny pack I realized the strap had frayed off. Believing things happen in 3’s this was Incident #2 , with #1 being the drive to the airport.
In checking the airport gift shop I found the cost of a sewing kit mirrored the cost of the bag. Therefore, I chucked the bag putting the contents in my back pack. Hating to toss the fanny pack I placed the empty satchel under my seat and went to the loo. Upon return it was gone and I had gifted someone.
Upon sitting I heard an announcement, “A sweatshirt has been left at TSA. If this is yours please report to the TSA Supervisor.” As I checked my waist I realized my sweatshirt wasn’t there. I rushed to the TSA area to retrieve it. The third incident had occurred.