Gloria in excelsis deo...

The dawn was barely a breath on the horizon as I boarded the earliest train to Madrid-Barajas Airport at 5:15 AM. The two-euro fare felt like a rare gift, a small mercy against the looming threat of a fifty-euro taxi ride. By 5:45 AM, I arrived at the terminal—a vast, intimidating expanse that seemed to stretch endlessly before me. The air was thick with tension, the entire place brimming with people—travelers just like me, desperate to catch their flights. The check-in line coiled through the terminal like a serpent, and as my eyes followed its length, I realized the horror: only two counters were open. Two counters for the hundred or so anxious faces in line. The line moved at a snail’s pace, each second stretching into an eternity. My flight was set to leave at 7:15 AM, and the clock was merciless. Panic clutched my chest, the thought of missing my flight tightening its grip with every passing minute.

With two carry-on suitcases in hand, I could almost feel the cold shadow of a missed opportunity hovering over me. It wasn't just a fear; it was a near certainty. The line seemed to mock me, every inch gained feeling like a cruel joke. The faces around me mirrored my own dread, everyone silently screaming at the slowness of it all. I watched as minutes bled away, as the chances of making my flight shrank with each passing moment. And then, in that pressing uncertainty, a flicker of hope sparked. My checked bag—despite its bulk—still met the carry-on size requirements. Desperation nudged me into action. I would risk it. I would bypass the line, take my chances at security with both bags, and hope that luck would be on my side.

As I finally broke away from the endless line and hurried towards security, I was met with another dreadful sight: a security line that moved at a glacial pace. The queue snaked ahead, a daunting gauntlet that threatened to eat up what little time I had left. My heart pounded as I stepped into that serpentine line, the words of Romans 8:31-39 echoing in my mind: "If G-d be for us, who can be against us?" Every tick of the clock seemed to hammer the reality of my situation deeper into my psyche. What if the agents stopped me? What if they sent me back to the end of that monstrous check-in line?

It was only when I was nearly through security, just one person ahead of me, that a chilling realization struck me like a blow. My stomach twisted as I remembered the big liquids I had packed in what would have been my checked bag—liquids I had foolishly tried to bring through as carry-on. The aerosol, the perfumes... my mind raced through the list of forbidden items, a sickening wave of dread washing over me. The expensive perfumes from Paris, meticulously chosen and packed in haste, suddenly felt like a ticking time bomb. And the food—how could I have been so careless? My throat tightened as I pictured the agents discovering my mistake, the possibility of being sent back to the start, or worse, missing my flight altogether.

Yet somehow, despite everything, I made it through. The agents, indifferent to my overburdened state, let me pass—a fleeting victory that barely registered as relief, overshadowed by the crushing weight of what could have gone wrong. At 6:49 AM, I reached the gate, my heart still racing. The agents had just taken their positions, and in a stroke of luck, offered to gate-check my larger carry-on. With shaking hands, I accepted, watching as my suitcase was tagged and whisked away, its safe passage to Geneva now in their hands.

Boarding had just begun, and I was among the first to step onto the plane. Settling into my seat, the weight of the morning began to lift from my shoulders, but the residual tension lingered. Just 24 hours before, the world had come to a standstill—flights frozen due to the CrowdStrike Microsoft update. The fact that I was here, on this plane, seemed nothing short of miraculous.

As the engines roared to life, I put on "Gloria In Excelsis Deo." The music enveloped me, a triumphant anthem to the morning’s hard-won victory. I closed my eyes, allowing the relief to wash over me, the earlier panic now a distant memory. This flight to Geneva was more than just a journey; it was a reprieve, a moment to breathe after navigating the morning’s trials. And in that moment, I couldn’t help but reflect on the improbable combination of luck, faith, and sheer determination that had brought me to this seat, ready to leave the chaos behind.

If G-d be for us, who can be against us?