I don't deserve to get anywhere.

I have a theory and the theory is this: universe is heaping my life’s quota of good luck on me now and there will be some terrible balancing in the future. I had expected the balancing to come in paper cut form, that is that I’d keep getting little annoying but psychologically traumatising incidents of bad luck. But the universe is messing with me. Obviously I was spared the bed bugs – the perfect paper cut opportunity. And when Lucy was in Madrid we were sitting right next to eachother and a bird shat on her leg. Mine was entirely bird poo free. Not even splatter. I told Lucy it was good luck, but really I knew. I get all the good luck in the world and I suck it away from those surrounding me.

So I have started to test the universe.

I had to get to Girona airport for my flight to Paris. Plan was to sleep in the airport seeing as my flight was at 6am and I am a cheap, cheap young woman. I realised, about 45mins before the last bus left to Girona from Barcelona that I didn’t have my plane ticket. I didn’t know what airline I was flying, what airport I was flying in to, when I would land or if whatever airline I was travelling with would let me on their plane. And I was like, ‘Come on universe. I’ll take ya.’

I made it to the airport after running for the bus with all my gear (thus confirming my suspicion that I would probably win The Amazing Race) and spending the ride trying to think about the beauty of a Spanish sunset and not the prospect of being stranded in a town I had never heard of. The airport was essentially a box. It had a café called Café Café, two ATMs, three vending machines and one bathroom. Good times, good times.



I spent the night with my bags tied to my ankle and locked together (gypsies are in airports too) wondering about the universe and what it would do to me in the morning. At 4am I bolted from the plastic comfort of the three chairs which had become my bed and ran to the check in counter ready to pull the dumb little girl who just might cry at any moment thing. I do it very well.

But I didn’t need to. The universe had my back.


I arrived outside Paris and remembered that Remi, who had offered me a place to stay and a lift, had no idea I was in France and I had no way of telling him so. But, you know, it all worked out. Because the universe has my back.