The lady behind the counter told me it was impossible as they had just closed the gate and the plane was ready to depart. Out of breath, I asked her what I could do. Was there another flight I could get on later?

“The next flight doesn’t leave until this time tomorrow. I can book you on that flight if you’d like.”

I began to cry. I was supposed to be back at work on Tuesday and now I wouldn’t even get home until Tuesday. I would surely get fired for being so irresponsible! Furthermore, I had spent every bit of cash I had and didn’t have a way to get more because I had never memorized the pin number for my credit card. I simply hadn’t anticipated that I would need more cash at the end of my trip. (I was obviously not an experienced traveler.) To make matters worse, my parents were supposed to pick me up at the airport in Seattle and I had no way of contacting them to let them know I missed my plane. They had been on vacation in California all week and their flight was scheduled to arrive in Seattle an hour before mine. They had planned to meet me at my gate when I arrived and we were all going to ride home together. I could just picture them waiting for me to get off the plane from Europe, then worrying like crazy when I never do.

 “Yes,” I sobbed to the lady behind the counter. “I will take the flight tomorrow.” She politely handed me a new ticket and told me what time to be at the airport. I was concerned she would charge me for the ticket, or at least a fee for making a change to my reservation, but thankfully she didn’t.

Dragging my increasingly heavy belongings behind me, I slowly walked away from the counter figuring I would just sleep at the airport. This depressed me even more as I thought about the night Kim and I had to spend at the airport in London in order to catch an early plane to Dublin. It was loud, uncomfortable, and I was unable to sleep at all. The next day I was completely exhausted from lack of sleep and my entire body ached from being crouched up in little chairs and lying on the floor throughout the night. I really didn’t want to do that again, but I didn’t have a lot of choices at this point. The Shannon Airport was in the middle of nowhere and I had no money. I walked over to an empty area of the airport where I wouldn’t be noticed, laid on my suitcase, and cried. I just wanted to go home.

“Oh no,” a voice came in my direction. I looked up to see the man who had been sitting near me on the bus to the airport.

“You missed your plane?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled with tears running down my face.

The man approached me and sat down on the floor beside me. He was about average height with short, thinning brown hair. He wore a long leather jacket and spoke with a British accent. The man offered me a cigarette, which I gladly accepted. He then introduced himself, although his name escapes me now. He told me he was from England, but he was on his way to France for work and he had some time before his plane was taking off. We chatted as we smoked together, and when he finished his cigarette he got up and said he’d be right back. He returned shortly with two large cans of Budweiser and handed one to me. My first thought was, it’s only 10:30 in the morning…too early for beer! But then reality hit me; I’m in Ireland, where people drink beer (preferably Guinness) at any time of the day. Besides, who cares? If I’m going to be stuck in this airport for the next 24 hours, I might as well try and enjoy it. I smiled and accepted the can of beer from my new friend.

The man told me he was a security officer for various events in Europe. He talked about some of the concerts and political functions he had worked, and how exciting it had been to meet some of the people he was working for. He asked me about my trip and wondered what I did for a living. I filled him on my vacation as well as my life back home. I soon found myself laughing and engaged in fascinating conversation with the man whom I had snapped at on the bus only an hour before.

“Well, I better get going,” he said after about 20 minutes had passed. “My flight is leaving soon.” He extended his hand and offered me his nearly full pack of cigarettes. “Take these.”

I had sworn to myself the night before, my last night on the town, that I would never smoke again. Throughout my stay I had been forced to breathe the unavoidable thick smoky air that filled the restaurants, trains, and nightclubs of London and Galway. Even for someone who smokes on occasion, it was more than I could take, and the thought of ever smoking again had made me utterly sick. But, considering I had 24 hours to kill in the airport, I figured I might as well take him up on his generous offer.

“Thank you so much,” I responded as I took the box of cigarettes and a lighter that said Ireland on one side.

“Do you need some money?” He asked me.

“Oh, no,” I replied. “No, but thank you.” I couldn’t believe this total stranger had offered to give me money. It warmed my heart to meet such a thoughtful person. “Have a good flight,” I said to him. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Good luck,” he said and he walked away. Immediately I was brought back to the reality of my situation and I wilted back onto my suitcase. After moping for a little while, I decided to get up and wander around.

Unfortunately, the airport in Shannon is really small so there was not much to do or look at. I went to the cafeteria and charged an expensive yet surprisingly tasty meal. After eating, I smoked a cigarette. “What the hell am I going to do now?” I asked myself. I sat for a while and tried to think of something, but came up with absolutely no ideas. Frustrated and angry, I made up my mind; I was not going to stay in this airport. I couldn’t bare the thought of spending another minute trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable in small plastic airport chairs with nothing to do except smoke and people watch until the next morning. I found an information counter and asked where the nearest hotel was. The lady behind the desk told me there were no hotels very nearby, but there were some B&Bs about two or three miles down the road. I asked her if she could reserve one for me and she did. She gave me directions and I was on my way.

Since I had no cash I could not take a taxi to the bed and breakfast. I put my sweatshirt on, which I had been carrying up until that point because there was no room left in my backpack or suitcase. I hoisted my backpack over my shoulders and started pulling my huge rolling suitcase toward my destination. I looked down the long desolate road ahead of me and wouldn’t you know it, the sun had finally decided to come out. I had been waiting for it all week, but it had been hiding behind gloomy, gray clouds until now, when I had to walk two miles in heavy jeans and a sweatshirt with a backpack on, pulling what felt like a 200-pound suitcase. What timing!

After walking for about 45 minutes, I was miserably hot and sticky with sweat. I came to a neighborhood and followed the house numbers to the address where I would stay. A woman answered the door and showed me to a small, tidy bedroom with a bathroom attached. I told her all I had was a credit card to pay for the room and she said that was fine. Since I didn’t have any money for food, I asked the lady if she would charge an extra $15 to my credit card and give me the cash. Luckily she agreed.

The first thing I did was take a much needed shower. I had been out late with Kim the previous night and didn’t have time to shower in the morning before going to the bus station. I reeked of stale cigarette smoke and after sweating the whole way to the bed and breakfast, all I wanted to do was cool off and feel refreshed. Once I had showered I laid on the bed, which felt like a body-sized pillow after the long walk. I was so relieved to be detached from my backpack and suitcase for the day.

Later that evening I walked to a nearby restaurant for dinner. I found a pay phone and left a message for my parents about missing my plane and told them I would be catching the next flight tomorrow. They were not supposed to have picked me up for another several hours, but I still imagined them waiting for me to step off the plane in Seattle and becoming frantic when I never appear. I had to tell myself to stop worrying; what’s done was done and it was out of my control.

I slept peacefully that night. In the morning I got up, showered, and ate breakfast with the other guests. Following breakfast I packed up my things and headed back to the airport on foot. I only had a couple dollars in cash remaining and I didn’t want to use them up on a taxi. It was a nice morning and I enjoyed the walk despite the weight of my belongings. During the two and a half mile trek all I could think was, thank God for wheels on suitcases! Whoever came up with the idea was obviously a genius.

I arrived at the airport exactly two hours before my flight. I checked in with no problems and waited patiently to board the plane. When it was time, I got onto the plane and found my seat. I fastened my seatbelt and took a big sigh of relief. I was finally on my way back home. At that moment, a flight attendant came up to me. “Ms. Jensen?”

“Yes,” I responded.

“Please grab your things and follow me.”

Oh my God, I thought. This isn’t happening! They are going to make me get off the plane! It must be too full and since I got my ticket late I have to wait for another flight! What am I going to do?

“We are going to have you sit up here,” the flight attendant said, gesturing toward the first class section of the plane. I was confused, but I was certainly not going to argue. I sat down next to the window and took a moment to survey the scene. I thought I was going to cry. I had never been in first class before. There was a little travel bag, a bottle of water, and some slippers setting on the table next to me. I even had a leg rest and my own television!  Throughout the flight I enjoyed delicious food and drinks, watched two movies of my choice, and took a cozy nap. It was the quickest eight-hour flight I had ever taken! After a brief layover in New Jersey I had to return to the coach section, but I didn’t care. I had been well taken care of for the first half of my flight and I appreciated every minute of it. I made a mental note to fill out a comment card for the airlines when I got to Seattle.

When I finally arrived in Seattle my mom was waiting for me at the gate. I was so excited to see her. She gave me a big hug and we walked toward baggage claim. I immediately started babbling about what I had been through in the past 24 hours. What a relief it was to be safe and at home.

At the time, missing my plane in a foreign country felt like the end of the world. But looking back on the experience, I realize that the situation turned out to be an unexpected adventure that was worth remembering. I met an interesting fellow at the airport, took a scenic walk to a B&B, and actually got to see the sun come out in Ireland. I was forced to be resourceful and venture outside of my carefully planned itinerary. And in the end, Kim was right; everything worked out just fine. I made it home safely, I didn’t lose my job, and I eventually paid off my credit card. But the best part of it all is that I now have a great story to share about an unforeseen excursion in a small town in Ireland.

Sometimes things don’t go as planned. It’s simply part of the journey.