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But just as I reach the gate, something gives way under my foot and I stumble and crash to the ground, dropping all of my belongings in one go.
“Shit!” I cry, my eyes burning with tears of humiliation as my fear threatens to overspill.
“It’s okay, ma’am. Take a deep breath.”
“I can’t! I’m late! They called?—”
“It’s fine. You’re here now. The plane’s not going anywhere without you. Take a minute. Let me help collect your things.”
The man in the airport security uniform helps me to my feet and looks down at my shoes, grimacing. “I hope you have more than one pair with you,” he says.
I follow his gaze and realise the reason for my fall and subsequent humiliation is a broken heel. I groan.
“Not in my hand luggage.”
“Oh that’s okay then. It could be worse,” he tells me, bending to pick up my scattered belongings. I’m not entirely sure how it could be worse, but I keep a snappish retort to myself. He’s helping me after all. “Here you go. Have you got your boarding pass and passport?”
I look down at my empty hand and panic surges up through my chest like a violent tidal wave.
My boarding pass and passport are nowhere to be seen.
My heart races as I frantically search my bag, but they’re not there either. I must have dropped them when I stumbled.
“Oh, god. They’re gone. My passport and boarding pass are gone!” I turn to the airport security man, my eyes wide with terror.
“It’s okay, ma’am. We’ll find them,” he assures me, his voice calm and steady. “Let’s retrace your steps. Where did you go after you left the toilets?”
“I...I came straight to the gate. I didn’t stop anywhere else. But they were in my hand! I was thinking they were flapping like the bendy plane wings as I was running, but now they’re gone!”
“Okay, so they’re here somewhere then. Breathe.”
I try to take a deep breath, but it comes out as more of a gasp. I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate. The airport security man looks at me with concern in his eyes.
“We’ll find them,” he says again. “Let’s retrace your steps, just in case. Maybe someone turned them in at the lost and found.”
I nod, and he leads me back to the toilets. We check the cubicle I was in, and then move to the sink where I washed my hands and the woman was kind to me. Nothing. We check the floor, the toilets, the bins. Still nothing.
“Okay,” the man says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s think. Did you give them to anyone? Did anyone bump into you on the way to the gate?”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t give them to anyone.”I’m not a fucking idiot.“And I don’t remember anyone bumping into me.”
But maybe that woman…the one who was kind to me…was distracting me so that she could steal them?
I’m going fucking crazy. IknowI had them in my hand as I ran to the gate. I know it.
The man sighs. “Well, let’s keep looking. They have to be around here somewhere.”
I nod, grateful for his help and determination. “Thank you,” I whisper.
We move through the airport, checking every possible place my boarding pass and passport could have fallen. But there’s no sign of them.
My mind starts to spin. What if I can’t find them? What if I can’t get on the plane? What if I’m stuck here and I miss the party and get kicked off this account?
The airport security man seems to sense my growing panic. “Let’s go to the gate and see if they can help,” he suggests.
I nod gratefully, and we make our way back to Gate Nine. The airline assistant looks up as we approach, her face pinched with irritation.
“What’s the problem?” she snaps, her fingers tapping impatiently on the keyboard in front of her.
