A week after moving to the U.S., I was pumped and ready to embark on my first domestic flight. The occasion? My sister’s graduation in Arizona. The challenge? Getting to Arizona without losing my sanity—or my shoes.

Here’s the gist.

My mom and I left the house early-ish, which in our books meant “not late, but definitely not comfortably on time.” We arrived at Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport feeling pretty good about ourselves. That is until we looked at the flight board and saw that our flight had been bumped forward.

Cue the panic.

We rushed to TSA, running faster than the wheels on a bus, only to find what looked like the longest queue in modern aviation history. There were people. I mean….so many people. And every single one of them stood between us and our flight.

It didn’t take long to realize that if we joined the line like good, law-abiding citizens, we would miss our flight. This left us with only one option: beg.

My mom’s phone rang, it was my sister/travel agent. We filled her in on the chaos, and she had only one piece of advice to give us: “Y’all better start begging.”

We started with polite desperation, asking the nearest traveler if we could jump ahead. Nope. Okay, fine. Maybe the next person? Still no. The third? Not a chance. One guy even laughed before shaking his head. It was as if we’d asked to cut in line at Disneyland—unforgivable.

I swear I saw a tear form in my mom’s eye as she said, “Oh, God! We will miss our flight!” Then, like a beacon of hope in the dark abyss of TSA lines, a kind couple took pity on us and let us move ahead.

Yes, yes, thank you so much!

We got in line, standing as close to each other as canned sardines.

Finally, we reached the front, but TSA wasn’t about to let us slide through easily. Oh no. The full airport security experience awaited us—shoes off, bags unpacked, liquids examined as though they held the secrets to the elixir of youth.

By the time we cleared security, we had about 10 minutes to reach our gate. And did we stop to put our shoes back on?

Absolutely not!

I grabbed my backpack, my shoes, and everything else I couldn’t shove inside, and we ran. Not a dignified jog, not a light power walk—an all-out sprint through DFW. I must have looked like a lunatic, barefoot and wide-eyed, clutching my belongings like a contestant on a game show.

I could hear my mother muttering prayers between gasps of breath. We cannot miss this flight. We cannot miss this flight.

We reached the gate, barely able to breathe, hearts pounding—only to see the flight status blinking:

DELAYED.

For…Wait.

One hour!

We stood there, panting, staring at the screen like it had personally betrayed us.

My feet throbbed. My mom, still catching her breath, managed to mutter, “At least now we can put our shoes back on.”

Thank you for reading this, lover. See you on the next one.