Whenever people ask me if I get tired of traveling so much, my answer is always no. I have a weird affection for airports despite the other humans who test my patience. And I only mean the small percentage of people who seem to have zero social or proximity awareness. The rest are just normal people moving about the world, as I am.
I don’t even mind the delays because I love a good airport lounge. So far, I’ve only missed one speaking engagement because of a delay. To mitigate that risk, I almost always book my travel to arrive the day before the event. I’ve shown up to speak with only a few hours of sleep thanks to delays, but the goal is to make it to the gig — come hell, high water, or mechanical issues.
This week, however, was the first time my body has ever hinted that maybe, just maybe, this is too much. I arrived in Denver on Tuesday with no delays and was prepped and ready to speak the following morning. But I woke with a pounding head and stuffy nose—a clear indication I had caught the “yuck.” My eyes were dark and puffy, my voice was on the verge of collapse. I am always armed with meds, so I mainlined DayQuil and got the job done. Adrenaline helps when the show must go on.
My flight was timed perfectly so I could leave the venue and head directly to the airport. That’s when my body decided to go full-court press on being sick. It was as if my body said, “Now that you’re done speaking, I’m taking you down.” All of this was happening in the back seat of my Lyft. And, of course, I had a very chatty driver.
Now, normally, I love talking to drivers. Some of the most interesting exchanges I have are with Uber and Lyft drivers in cities all over the world. But today? I was not in the mood. Unfortunately, my driver did not read the room (err, the backseat passenger compartment) and continued to talk. She shared with me that she’s a psychic. That’s right, she skipped the small talk and dove right in.
For the record, I am the biggest skeptic you will ever meet. I don’t believe in ghosts, mediums, or much of anything I can’t see. So I was less than enthusiastic about her declaration. But then she said:
“We have about 25 minutes until your destination—would you like me to read your Tarot cards?”
Dear reader, I did not feel like participating in this exercise. And yet, I was intrigued enough that I heard myself say, “Okay.” I’m blaming it on the meds.
Normally, as I was told, the cards are laid out for me. But given that she was operating a motor vehicle, she handed me the stack and asked that I choose five. “Leave them as they are—even if upside down—and tell me your cards in order.”
So I did.
She seemed excited because I drew the Two of Cups. She called it the “true love” card and said it symbolized a powerful and harmonious connection between two people. She said she was feeling a career context, suggesting strong and mutually beneficial relationships with colleagues or business partners.
Then came the Lovers card, which apparently is even stronger than the Two of Cups. Since it was upright, she said it reinforced the rekindling of a relationship. “It’s a relationship whether romantic, professional, or a friendship that experienced a disagreement,” she said with absolute certainty.
The remainder of my cards were Pentacles. I don’t know what that means exactly, but she did. According to her, this rekindled partnership is going to be very lucrative.
Did I say I didn’t believe this garbage? Ignore that. I’m all in now. I tipped my psychic Lyft driver 30% because I can afford it with all the money I’ll be making soon.
When I arrived at the airport, I got the dreaded alert that my flight was delayed. But this one was weird: it was pushed back five hours, which meant I would miss my connection in Dallas. This is a familiar road for me. Just last week, I was slated to land at 10 p.m. at home and didn’t get in until 3 a.m. But at least I wasn’t sick on that trip.
I must admit, I was feeling a little better after the great Tarot news, but I was still stranded in Denver. So I went to the American Airlines rep in the Admirals Club and told her my predicament. Sweet Gina from AA couldn’t find a flight home that night, but she graciously booked me at a nearby hotel with a voucher and put me on the first flight out in the morning. And as an unexpected gesture of kindness, she even put me in first class.
Since Gina and I had never met before, I wasn’t worried that she was the “lucrative partnership” from my past the psychic predicted. This was a relief because I didn’t want to waste that Tarot card on one flight upgrade.
I went to the beautiful hotel, slept, and made my way back to the airport at 6 a.m.—only to find another delay that would cause me to miss another connection. This was starting to feel like Groundhog Day.
This time, I took matters into my own hands. I betrayed my beloved American Airlines and booked a direct flight on United so I could finally get home. It cost me an arm and a leg, but I wasn’t worried. After all, I’ve got that fortune coming.
Here’s what I learned: The road (or runway) rarely goes as planned. But even in the delays, detours, and DayQuil fog, there are moments of connection—like Sweet Gina from AA or my chatty Tarot-reading driver—that make the journey bearable.
So maybe the lesson is this: disruption comes whether you want it or not, but if you lean in, you just might walk away with a story, a seat in first class, and the promise of a fortune.
In the end, travel delays, Tarot cards, and getting unexpectedly sick, all have the same message: surrender to the disruption or it’ll drag you down the runway anyway.
Keep on disrupting, my fellow disrupters.
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🖤 Onward and upward,
Kristen
