"The wrong decision you made at the right time is better than the right decision you made at the wrong time." Ben Fajemilua
Recently, I discovered how something unexpected can change my perspective, challenge my convictions, and stretch my empathy as if a rubber band.
I'm still scratching my head, "How the hell did this happen?"
After agreeing to pick up our friends Jim and Sue from the airport on their return flight home from Sayulita, I await Sue's text telling me when they land.
Getting to the San Jose Airport at 5:00 p.m. on a weeknight is never ideal. Although the airport is only a few miles away, as the crow flies, it would take the better half of an hour on this particular night due to unprecedented traffic.
We're retired.
We never use the highway at 5:00 p.m. on a weeknight because we don't have to unless we've agreed to pick our friends up at the airport during commute traffic.
As we crawl along Highway 880, we're texting back and forth with Sue to inform her of our progress. It's slow—very slow.
And here's my beef. As I'm moving along at a snail's pace in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I notice there are cars (driven by assholes) flying up the exit-only lanes and then pushing their way back into the flow of traffic when they get to the end of the lane.
I'm like, "Look at those assholes using the exit lanes illegally. It's appalling."
Larry says, "Well, they certainly know how to beat the system."
"Beat the system? That is breaking the law."
"Look at that guy," Larry says, "now that takes some balls." He points to a car using the shoulder to slip past traffic when it reaches the end of the exit-only lane, its tires spitting up rocks and dust as it moves without slowing down into the next exit-only lane.
I have no words. I'm aghast. "He should be persecuted, jailed, and put in a cell with Daniel Hernandez for the rest of his life."
"Daniel Hernandez?"
"You know, that crazy rapper everyone hates?"
I get the look.
We watch this lunatic bypass at least a hundred cars and then slip easily back into the flow of traffic a half mile ahead of us. I'm steaming.
Sue sends a text. We're going back into the terminal. It's freezing. Let us know when you get here.
Jim and Sue are coming in from Mexico after their son's wedding. They're dressed in outfits meant for heat and humidity! The temperature in San Jose is dropping as quickly as the sunset, and they didn't pack winter coats.
As we make our way towards the Coleman exit, I watch with a mixture of anger and awe how dozens of outlier vehicles beat the system with absolutely no remorse.
We finally make it to the airport entrance. I race to the terminal, and we text them that we're finally here, but there is no Jim and Sue.
We're stumped.
I asked Larry, "Maybe there's an international terminal?"
"No! They're on Alaska, and this is the only gate." He is speaking with a great deal of agitation. I think he's still frustrated by the traffic and taking it out on me.
But I'm driving and have acquired my own agitation and cannot hold my tongue. "I could do without the attitude."
I'm sure he had a response, but I've completely blocked the memory.
I reached under my seat to retrieve my phone, which had fallen while driving. I pull up Sue's original text, which says the international flights arrive at another terminal.
As I'm about to spout off about this, Larry receives a text from Sue that says the same thing.
Larry says, "They are at the other terminal."
"Interesting, there's an international terminal. Who knew?" I race around the airport to the correct gate and spot Sue straightaway, shivering on the curb.
We quickly pull in next to her as Jim emerges from the terminal in a thin t-shirt. Larry jumps out to help them load their suitcases into the back of the car.
As we laugh about the terminal snafu, they turn on their seat warmers, and we settle in for a long ride home. Conveniently, Jim and Sue live a block from our house, making airport pick-ups enormously easy.
Or so we think.
I merge back onto the same Highway, going in the opposite direction but with much less angst. We leisurely return to Campbell as Jim and Sue fill us in on their final days in Sayulita, who got sick, and where the kids stayed for their mini-moon (a short honeymoon).
It's amazing how drastically things can change from one moment to the next.
As I'm merging onto the exit lane for Hamilton Avenue, only a mile from our homes, Larry gets a text from Sue's phone.
That's strange?
She's sitting right behind him and not on her phone.
It says, Hi, I just found a phone in the street at the airport. You are the last person this phone texted, so I hope you're with the owner.
We all look at each other. What the hell?
Sue is madly digging through her purse in search of the missing phone but to no avail. Obviously, someone at the airport found it and was able to text Larry.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
I say, "We'll head back. I just need to get back on the freeway," because this situation requires a contingency plan for the contingency plan's contingency. Hope that makes sense.
Sue says, "Really, you don't have to do that, but thank you."
Larry, the only person communicating with our phone savior, says, "He wants to know what he should do with the phone."
Jim says, "Let him know it'll take us at least 30 minutes to return."
Larry says, "He has a flight to catch, but he'll wait as long as possible."
OMG.
If he has to leave the phone with security, that will be another fiasco.
Given the circumstances, I'm driving as fast as possible, but the traffic is worse now than when we started.
Suddenly, everyone has an opinion.
Should we get off the freeway and take Coleman to the airport? Or is moving at a snail's pace quicker than dealing with a bunch of streetlights? There are six of one and half a dozen of the other.
The tension in the car is mounting as we crawl towards the airport without a chance in hell to retrieve that phone before our anonymous benefactor has to catch his flight.
I could walk faster.
As we approach the first exit-only lane, I decide this qualifies as an emergency, and I take it. Before you judge me too harshly, I was fully planning to exit the freeway and take the back roads to the airport, but sometimes you do things you never thought you would do out of sheer desperation or opportunity?
Larry says, "Coleman's going to be packed. It'll probably take us longer."
Jim says, "We'll never make it if we stay on the freeway."
Sue says, "Oh shit, you have to merge. Now!"
Keep in mind that I'm zooming past hundreds of cars in the exit only and have a split second to decide my next move. I believe the occupants in the car were urging me on, but that could be pure conjecture, and I take the shoulder as if I own the damn road, praying there is no cop behind me, and merge onto the next exit-only lane with little or no remorse.
I'm committing the same crime I was condemning less than an hour ago. How can that be?
The fact that the circumstances have changed along with my behavior is not lost on me.
Margaret Atwood says, "She knows herself to be at the mercy of events, and she knows by now that events have no mercy."
We are flying past all the dead-stopped cars, making terrific time as I break every known legal and ethical traffic law on our journey back from whence we came.
Another text comes in: "Are you close? My flight is about to leave," and he informs us that he's wearing a yellow sweatshirt.
Now in view, I race towards our exit and skid into the airport grounds. Thank God we know where the international terminal is located. There is a rash debate as to whether he is at the departure gate or arrival, but we land on departure, if you will, and immediately spot our kind-hearted phone savior.
Pulling up to the curb, he smiles and hands Jim the phone, who shakes his hand and slips him some cash for his inconvenience.
There's a round of gratuitous thank yous from everyone in the car. He smiles, pockets the cash, and slips back into the airport.
We let out a universal sigh of relief.
Back on the road, but this time, we're taking it slow and easy.
The thing is, when we fail to consider the circumstances that surround our decisions, we may land on erroneous interpretations, such as me calling all the drivers taking advantage of the exit lanes to allude traffic, assholes, and deserving of persecution.
Who is this woman?
The question remains, have I done something so regrettably wrong that I need redemption? Probably. As a collective, we do many things due to circumstances or perceived circumstances, and maybe that's why we've invented so many purification rituals.
This might be true, but I find it amazing how easily I was able to justify my actions when I needed to bypass traffic for my own purposes. That has to include justifying the actions of others even if I don't understand their motivation, right? A more compassionate view might have allowed me to avoid tumbling into that frustrating gap between what we expect of ourselves and what we expect of others.
I definitely pushed the envelope, but the fact that the obstacle was overcome and I eluded jail time does not make it right. I find it ironic that I am able to deem your decisions as right or wrong until I need to make the same one. I suppose we all have a choice to condemn or uplift others regardless of their situation. As Mandy Hale says, "Sometimes it takes a wrong move to get you to the right place." I think even our most beloved redeemers would agree.
I'm Living in the Gap, driving slowly, judging less. How's your week going?
PS While I'm making confessions today, I'll admit that I was a little egotistical about evading the Norovirus while in Mexico. Guess what? I came down with it the day after our airport fiasco, kicked my butt, just emerging from the fog. Thanks, Wynne and Vicki, for rescheduling the podcast. God knows what I would have said if we did it today!
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