I keep repeating to myself, "Stay calm. It is MUCH easier than it used to be for an American to get out of Vietnam," but it doesn't feel that way when I arrive at the airport counter to find that my flight has been canceled without warning. It doesn't help that the clerk describes the situation as a series of questions: "Um, typhoon in Hong Kong? Storm?"
If that's the case, why can I get a booking from a different airline, seven hours from now? I'll have to tell my job I'm missing evening orientation, if I arrive tonight at all.
"Storm of empty seats," quips the guy behind me. It's the joke that will get me through this day.
I had my "arrived in Hong Kong" post all queued up and ready for blast off. I'm disappointed, to say nothing of the anxiety I feel about showing up late to work - I may be the type to traipse around on my days off with a half-empty backpack and an open visa, but I NEVER miss work.
Sigh. I'm grateful for wifi, coffee, and an electrical outlet that accommodates my finicky power converter. I would really love to get out of Vietnam.
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