Early this morning the taxi came and backed into the driveway to get my bags. He started to pull out to the street, but the gate was stuck in a half-open position, too closed to get through. The housekeeper was yelling instructions from the terrace, none of which helped. The aunt came down in her slippers and curlers and tried. One by one the neighbors all came out on their terraces, and then down to the driveway, in their bathrobes and slippers, and consulted with each other.
Normally, this would be just a delay. But it happened while needing to catch a flight to another country.
Someone was called to come in from outside. I sat inside the cab and watched.
A woman came over to my door. I did not know her. She said something to me in Italian I did not understand. She elaborated on it. It sounded like some kind of idea.
Then I started strategizing. If I missed my flight to Madrid, I might be able to get another one tomorrow, but then what about my flight to the States? Not that I would have argued with more time in Italy, but I have a very important Bat Mitzvah on Saturday that I cannot miss.
Somebody was putting major effort into turning something in a metal box on the ground by the gate. Time went by. I started strategizing again. Then it happened. One side of the gate was able to be opened enough to slip through. A cheer went up in the small crowd. The housekeeper turned and gave me the thumbs up sign.
The universe had considered keeping me here longer but decided it was better for me to stay on schedule.
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