The trip from Singapore to Melbourne was simple. Leave by 6.45, plane at 9, land at 7, and get to work by 9.30. Catching a taxi occurred in record time.
The first warning came at the first light. Instead of going left, the driver went straight. I sighed, knowing that the choice was marginally longer.
The second warning came immediately. The radio warned of tailbacks on the freeway. Red taillights drifting into the distance greeted us.
As I fretted, I checked emails. The traffic gave me time, so I made phone calls. We had not moved, so I worried. Recalculating, I wondered if I would make my flight. Even as I checked in, I was talking to myself.
I boarded and settled in. Stowing my computer, I reached for the mobile phone power cords. As I plugged one in, I realized the other was missing. A extended search revealed that it was in the narrow space between my seat and the window.
I try to slide my hand in. The sting caught me totally off guard! I pulled my hand back to see a small slice in my palm. Stunned, I watched as blood gently dripped on my trousers and shirt.
As I asked the flight attendant for cold water to dap out the blood, the Singapore Airlines crew went into action. The first attempt failed (her slender hand). The second failed (coat hanger). Finally a fishing line made of clear tape with a S hook on the end became the answer.
As I struggled, I remember a writer’s account of going from point A to B. It was not simple. “We made a straight run to Cos, the next day reached Rhodes, and then Patara. There we found a ship going direct to Phoenicia, got on board, and set sail. Cyprus came into view on our left, but was soon out of sight as we kept on course for Syria, and eventually docked in the port of Tyre.” (Acts 21.2, 3) The point was, to get to Tyre.
I landed at 7, complications and all.
