We grabbed our bags from the overhead bins and literally ran off the plane.
The mad dash through Vienna airport to catch our connecting flight was hectic. With the doors closing in less than a minute, we weaved frantically in and out of the crowd.
Stepping inside the warm cabin, hearts pounding, foreheads glistening, we made our way to our seats against a backdrop of sarcastic applause. I couldn’t be bothered to explain about our aborted landing minutes earlier, and instead, decided to just sit and have a cold drink. And that’s when I found a group of passengers sat in our seats, refusing to move. After a battle of words, the flight attendant came along, barked at us to disperse, and told us to find any free seat so that we could take off.
And so I turned, left my friends, and made my way towards the back of the plane to squeeze in between two passengers who had absolutely no intention of allowing me past easily.
This was going to be a long 11 hours!
It wasn’t until I eventually drifted off into a light sleep that I finally let go and began to look forward to seeing Thailand for the first time. It was magical, enchanting, and life changing.
Then, the tsunami came.
The flight home was a bit of a blur. Looking around at the half-empty plane, a thought occurred to me. What if everything did indeed happen for a reason? What if we were meant to be late that evening so that those people could sit together one last time? Are we ever really late for anything, or do we always arrive at exactly the right moment?
Looking out down towards the clouds, tears rolling down my face, I said a quick prayer for everyone who wasn’t on the plane, and made a vow to breathe with life, trusting that I will always be where I am meant to be.