How to Have Airport Gate Agents Greet You by Name A story of my last day in Warsaw, Poland 2015-07-02 You wake up, and notice within seconds that something is wrong. It takes another second for the answer to come back about what's wrong: you're _not sleepy_, and you woke up naturally. You curse softly, and look at your wrist. Finding your watch not there, you reach for it on the bedside table. 12:55, it says. Your flight _takes off_ at 1:55. You curse softly under your breath. The train comes every half-hour, at 17 after and 47 after, if you recall correctly. The train-ride is around 30-40 minutes, according to your memory of google maps. You have 60 minutes, all of your backpack-full of belongings. You need to get back to the US. Go! ... ... ... Have you thought about what you would do, in this situation I found myself in, this morning? ... ... ... ... You curse again softly. You realize you should have set your laptop to make noise at the right time, when your phone failed to ring an alarm you had forgotten to unset before you went to bed 3 hours prior to your intended wake-up time. You set your watch alarm as a contingency, against the 6 alarms you set on your phone failing, but you know watch alarms don't wake you up when you're sleeping deeply. You bolt out of bed, and think about trying to reschedule your flight. You rule it out as too costly. What do you know? The hotel will not keep you another night. The only place to make airline plans is from the airport. It's not quite _impossible_ that you'll make that flight. There's no reason to stay at the hotel, it won't help you, and going to the airport quickly is the least bad thing you can think of to do. You are momentarily grateful that you are essentially all packed up, that you took the time to make it quick and easy to pack in the morning, thinking you'd be tired. You break one of your backpack zippers while closing the backpack, try to fix it twice, break it a bit more, and then just dump the stuff from that small section into one of your drawstring backs. You pack your remaining things in two minutes, grab your stuff, do a quick check over the room, grab your cellphone and sleep mask, and sprint out of your room. You realize as the door locks closed that you left your key-card in the room, and shrug, hoping the hotel desk won't give you trouble, as you press the elevator button. You go to check out, wishing you'd settled your bill the previous night, as the sign in the elevator suggested. There are two discrepancies: you ate at least two breakfasts, the hotel thinks you ate only one; and you thought the accommodation was prepaid. You mention both, the desk-worker disputes both, you shrug, figuring the hotel can deal with the former, and you can dispute the latter with a credit card company if need be. You discovered from the clerk that there are two airports nearby (luckily you recognize "Chopina" from google maps), and that the one you want is 20-30 minutes away by taxi. You notice the taxis outside while waiting for the desk worker to finish, and sprint outside to the first taxi in line after thanking the clerk and ensuring there's nothing more. You ask the taxi driver to take you to the airport, and note conversationally that you're in a hurry, as your flight takes off at 2. You inform the driver that you're on Lufthansa, and ask how long it takes to get there. 10-20 minutes is the answer, this time. You anxiously check your watch throughout the journey. You pull up your mobile boarding pass on your phone, and decide not to read the pleasant emails you note in your inbox, as you want to stay focused and alert for any interactions you have in the airport. You take a few calming breaths, because you are a bit too tense. You ask yourself what you can usefully do right now. You take out your wallet to pay the taxi, and ask mostly-calmly about the remaining time to the airport, and the time it takes to get through security. 5, 10 minutes max, the driver says, about security, and you breathe a sigh of relief. It's looking possible that you'll make this flight. You start composing this email in your head, then jerk your mind away from that, realizing that composing this email won't help you yet, and there are other useful plans you could be making. You pause for a moment, noting with interest that your lizard brain is already assuming that you'll make the flight, having never had the experience of a missed flight. You decide that next time, you should pack your reliable alarm, even if it is slightly bulky, and keeps time by the frequency of the current it gets. You get to the airport at 1:26. You freeze momentarily when you discover the taxi doesn't take credit cards, and you spent your last zlotties the night prior. You're about to apologize for not having any cash, when you remember that you have euros. The driver accepts them, luckily, and you ask for a receipt, remembering that you forgot to ask the night before. You jog into the airport. You weigh the inconvenience of having only a mobile boarding pass, with no internet, against the time it takes to get a physical one, and the time you have left. You decide to print a physical boarding pass. The first terminal you try is misaligned, and you lose a precious minute filling in your last name. The confirmation code won't go in at all, so you switch terminals. This one has a working screen, and a minute or two later, you have your boarding pass. You get to security at 1:30. The line is short, but you might not have the time to wait. You put a warm smile on your face, and ask each person, individually, if you could go ahead in line, because your plane is boarding now. You stop when you reach the conveyor, figuring the last three or four people, with their things already on the belt, won't make much of a difference. You unpack your things, and gamble on your belt not setting off the metal detector. You think the attendant is telling you to take off your belt, so you start to, and then he indicates he's actually taking about your watch, in a mix of English and German, so you take off your watch, and leave your belt on. Anyway, you seem to recall it not setting off detectors before, and you don't want to lose 30 seconds it takes to put it back on; it's already 1:36, by the time you get your things into the x-ray machine. You walk through the metal detector, assuming the lady who was standing there, and then walked away, was dithering or something. Your belt sets off the metal-detector. You get patted down, and the agent indicates in minor annoyance that you should take off your belt. You do. He asks where your bags are, you point under the x-ray tunnel. He asks, more annoyed, why you went ahead of the women in front of you. You stammer that your flight is boarding in 20 minutes, then apologize, and correct that your flight is taking off within 20 minutes, slightly more confidently. He finishes patting you down, has you turn around, pats you down some more, and then indicates that you should continue. You thank him, and collect your bags. The time is 1:38, and you figure that you have the time to put your laptop back in your bag, as it will likely make you a bit quicker and have an easier time getting to the gate. You're aware of the seconds ticking by. You are aware that you'll be upset if this is how closely you missed your plane. You take a deep breath. You finish packing your backpack, grab your stuff, and run to your gate, putting your second backpack strap on as you weave between the people. You regret not having the time to refill your water-bottle, which you emptied into a bed of flowers when you got out of the taxi, so that you wouldn't have to waste time finding a bathroom. You arrive at the gate at 1:43, and ask if this is the boarding area for your gate. The gate agents ask "Jason Gross?", and you indicate that they are correct, apologizing with a smile that your alarm didn't go off this morning. They wave you through, and unlock the tunnel doors, indicating that you are just on time. You jog down the tunnel, stopping when you make eye contact with the flight attendants, figuring that now they won't leave without you. You make it onto the plane, with about 10 minutes to spare before _take off_. This is, by far, the closest you've ever cut it. You fit your bulky backpack under the seat, sit down with a smile, and decide that being late and flustered is a good enough conversation-starter that you can say a couple of sentences to the lady sitting next to you. She speaks semi-fluently but not easily, so you leave it at a few sentences, and settle in to read the emails you were looking forward to earlier, and to compose this email.