I try to think of an ingenious way to get through security. But after yet another infuriating conversation with another official, I’m forced to accept that the methods to combat terrorism are also enough to intervene when a unfit, scruffy and desperate woman.
With an alarming and increasing level of determination I decide to buy a ticket to somewhere in Asia, just so that I can get through the security gates. But after another episode at the security desk, the fact that my passport is in a box at my new home is clearly a show-stopper.
I stand in the airport in a confused daze, and take out my phone. I wanted to do this in person, but now I have no choice. I close my eyes and wait for the line to ring.
It goes straight to voicemail.
“Oh god,” I cry, but nobody notices.
For almost an hour I pace up and down, trying to come up with a brilliant plan. But no matter how I try, nothing happens and no plan is formed.
I look at my watch for the millionth time today and see that
