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I've never missed a flight before, although I once came close in Seoul after mistakenly assuming Incheon city and Incheon airport were in the same place. If I hadn't found an old taxi driver willing to bomb it across the yellow sea on a futuristic cable-stayed bridge, break-rolled through the terminal entrance and Marty McFlew on a luggage trolley into a closing check-in, I may not have made it. But I did. Attending a wedding the evening prior to my Shanghai flight seemed like a fine idea at the time. Knowing I would be accosted by strangers for ultra combo-drinking I sensibly set my phone's alarm well in advance. Following the crowd from the wedding site to a karaoke bar, and then eventually back home custodian of a well-defined drunken stupor, I successfully overlooked how much battery was remaining on my three-year old Samsung handset. Evidently, when I opened my eyes the following morning at precisely the time my flight was leaving the runway, I realised the answer was not enough.
I contemplated calling the whole thing off. Was I really going to buy another ticket just to spend two days playing games in an arcade?
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