Let me paint you a picture: it’s 4AM, I’ve had maybe—maybe—two hours of sleep, I’m running on vibes and fumes, and I have to drive an hour through Dallas in the pouring rain to return my rental car and catch a flight to Nashville. What could go wrong?
Everything. Everything could go wrong.
So there I am, weaving through wet traffic, squinting at street signs, and wondering why literally everything in Dallas is named after George W. Bush. Streets, highways, probably someone's dog. I get turned around more than once (thanks, George), but finally pull up to the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport (DFW) at 5:45AM—late, but thinking I still have a fighting chance since boarding starts at 6:10AM.
I hop out and ask someone where the shuttle to the terminals is… and then I glance down at my phone.
The flight is out of Dallas Love Field (DAL). Not the airport I’m currently standing in. My heart DROPS. I'm at the wrong airport.
Panic mode: fully activated.
I look up directions. DAL is about 20 minutes away. My flight starts boarding in 25 minutes. I order an Uber and when the driver pulls up, I give him the full “help me, I messed up” speech. And this angel of a man just looks at me and says, “I think I can get you there. Hold on.”
And when I tell you he stepped on it—I mean it felt like we were in the opening scene of a Fast & Furious movie. I’m gripping the seat, refreshing my airline app, praying the rain lets up. He gets me to DAL at 6:15AM.
No time for small talk. I throw him a thank you, kick off my shoes, and start running barefoot through the airport like I’m in an indie film montage. I’m darting through crowds, yelling, “Excuse me!” left and right. I was that person. No shame.
And then, as I’m sprinting to my gate, “A Moment Like This” by Kelly Clarkson starts playing over the speakers. I kid you not. You cannot script this kind of chaos. It felt divine.
I make it to the gate right as they’re closing the doors. I walk on. I collapse into my seat. I sleep the entire flight like I just finished running a marathon—which, let’s be real, I basically did.
Was it insane? Yes. Was it stressful? Deeply. Did Kelly Clarkson carry me through that final leg of my journey? Absolutely.
Moral of the story: double-check which Dallas airport you’re flying out of. And maybe pack a pair of running shoes.
with (Dallas) love (field),
Alejandra