Some travel days are little bit stressful...

Today southern Ontario was under a “Winter Storm Watch” (insert scary music here). My flight was scheduled to depart from Toronto at 10:40am, so to make absolutely sure I would be there on time I reserved my taxi for 6:20am. Even though the cab was late I still ending up at the airport, through security and at my gate 3 hours early. I was constantly checking my flights status and happy when we boarded the plane at 10:20am and told we would be leaving on time. Then we got to the line up for de-icing and that is when it all went to hell. It took an hour before we were in the air. This is going to be close.

So what does that mean? Well, if the plane now lands at 3:45 pm and the ship leaves at 4:30pm then I have to haul ass! Before we land I will move to the front of the plane and as soon as those doors open I will be moving fast: down the stairs, to customs, into a cab, to the port security, on the tender and then, if all goes well, make it onboard the Liberty....

The plane landed at 3:40pm. I was one of the first ones off the aircraft and the very first one to reach customs. Was I the first one to get through? No. I happen to get the “new trainee”. He was the closest one, how could I have known. It is not like McDonald’s where their name tag says “Sorry, I’m new”. Out of the airport I race and into the first taxi. It’s 3:47pm. He drops me off at the port at 3:58pm; the wrong port. Crappity crap crap! Like the wind I run (sure a slow wind), knapsack on my back, carry-on in my hand to the port which is only a block away. Into the immigration office I bound like a bull goring a matador. “You must be Jason”, I hear from the officer sitting and drinking his tea. Out the window I can see the Liberty with the sun glistening of her hull. I can also see hands waving frantically at the last tender that is about to leave the port. It must have been quite a sight; a large Canadian wearing jeans and blue collared shirt carrying his bag and running at a full spirit down the pier in the hot Grand Cayman sun.

“You made it”, the security guard says, “You’re pretty fast for a... big guy!”