I have a problem where I plan everything and I expect life to just follow the plan that’s in my head. I do it time and time again even when I know  that some how some way it’s not going to work.

I left for Korea on December 1st, right when a snow storm hit the east coast. It delayed my departure by over an hour and I missed my connecting flight. Air China instantly booked me on that same flight the very next day but that would have meant that I missed an entires day worth of time with Canden. Time... that’s his love language. Our time was already really limited and I couldn't bring myself to lose anymore. I stood on line, back aching and sweating profusely, ready to shell out an additional $150 to take a different flight that was leaving in less than two hours. The problem was, I flew Air China and the flight I wanted was with Air Korea— an airline in a completely different terminal. In order to make that flight I would have to stand on line for a visa to enter Beijing, go through customs, go through security, take a train to a terminal on the other side of the airport and navigate a place I had never been in before all under two hours. Bottom line, I would never make it in time. Now this is why I say I’ve got God on my side; or rather Canden and I have God embedded so deep into our relationship. 

The first information desk agent I spoke with gave up in less than two minutes when I presented her with my idea to switch airlines in a time crunch. She shrugged her shoulders and started talking to the person behind me— so I shuffled to the man next to her and with determination, conviction and a few crocodile tears, told him what I needed to happen. He made some calls. Well more than some — there was a fury of calls and texts. Quick speaking in a language that my western ears translated as impending bad news. He instructed me to stand off to the side as he tried everything he could. Five minutes later a woman in a hoodie and reflective vest walked towards me. She was small, probably about 5 foot 1 with her hair in a slicked back bun tiny black shoes that looked like slippers, one hand in the pocket of her crisp black slacks and the other with an iPhone in her hand. The man at the desk handed me a traditional airline ticket with everything handwritten in. Some parts were in English and others were in what I assume was Chinese but could just have easily been Korean. I stared down at my ticket, skeptical about it’s legitimacy and heard “follow her”. She quickly turned, I scooped up my things and did what I was told — I followed her. 

I followed her past immigration where my ticket was scrutinized. She let out 45 seconds worth of explanations, I was waved through, and I let out a multitude of thank yous. See this entire time, I knew I was being taken to the flight, but I had no idea what was going on. I had no idea how my handwritten ticket would get me there, or how it would help me beat the clock but I followed that woman who walked faster than any New Yorker I’ve ever known, with her head down and her iPhone in hand. 

We approached security, there was more talking, more verification, more scrutiny and I was let through. I was taken through back stairwells, service elevators, and led to a dark shuttle bus waiting for me with no passengers, only the driver. I once again said my multitude of thank yous, got my first smile from her, and was handed off. The bus took me to the other side of the airport to the terminal I needed to be at. As I pulled up to another door, another woman with a short blunt bob and her ends bump, was waiting for me. She took my ticket and brought me to my gate. I was in shock. The whole process took 30 minutes. 30 minutes of silence and hand offs. I made it to the gate with time to spare and I would be on a flight to see the man I love, all because of the kindness of strangers. Kindness of people who had no need to go to such extreme lengths to help me. But they did. Because of them, I was able to speak my boyfriends love language for our anniversary. 

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