Stomachs churning, our expectations at a low boil, Jed and I held fast to the back seat of the taxi in the early morning of November 20, as it nosed its way to the airport. Had we forgotten anything? Were we wise to lurch our lives forward toward shark fin fried rice and other untried edibles, when everything was going so smoothly at home? At least, I felt that way. Dominated by end-of-life fears, I'd spent a chunk of the previous evening putting my jewelry (such as it is) in separate plastic bags, designating baubles to particular friends and family, in case of an over-the-ocean demise. This fear is unlike me. I'd never really felt it before about traveling. I can get deathly afraid of leaving toothpaste in the sink -- Jed is neater than I am -- but traveling zillions of miles from home usually did not phase.
This time was different. It was as if I'd completed all the fantasies I'd ever held for myself. Now, traveling to a friend's wedding in Taiwan put me over a precipice. When I tried to picture myself there, all was dark. Had I asked the Holy One for too much? More sober than I can remember, I'd even typed a "good bye" note and left it on the coffee table for my son.
I'd almost shaken this mood when we got to the airport. But, then at the top of the escalator, and later as we left the gate and boarded the plane, inexplicably HSBC bank had plastered a huge 3-panel ad that read, "Romance, Danger, Energy." This is supposed to be a clever way of saying that each of us can view the same situation in very different and personal ways AND that HSBC understands! What! Are they crazy? What idiiot media person places an ad that says "Danger" in gigando letters between the boarding gate and the aircraft? Still, raging about the absurd placement did help replace raging fear with righteous professional judgement. I boarded the plane.
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