Near Miss

I almost made a colossal error. I've had in my mind this entire time that I'm leaving Mumbai (Bombay) on the 17th, so after staying tonight at the luxury hotel in Goa (which by the way is freakin' ridiculous it's so posh) I was planning to stay tomorrow night (the night of the 16th) in Mumbai. I had looked into hotels in Mumbai for tomorrow night, had planned out my last minute shopping route through the city, and had set up drinks with friends I had met a few days ago in the Delhi Airport.

Twenty minutes ago, something told me to double check my ticket to New York. It turns out that I am in fact flying out on the 17th, but importantly I'm flying out at 12:20 am on the 17th. It took several minutes of serious concentration and my most sophisticated mathematical abilities, along with a consultation with the nearest member of the hotel staff, to figure out that a flight at 12:20 am on the 17th meant that my flight really leaves on the night of the 16th! My flight's leaving tomorrow night, not the night after.

I almost missed my flight! Who knows when I would have been able to get another flight to New York (probably the next day). It could have taken a week, possibly even a month... I could have delayed starting my job indefinitely (the job that I had an anxiety nightmare about last night). What am I thinking, that mistake would not have been colossal, it would have been Perfect!

Damn my responsible nature. Curses!

It's like I've lost two days of my vacation and am going home early despite the fact that I'm still leaving on the 17th. Omg, I'm so depressed I just might have to go get an over-priced ayurvedic spa treatment from this ridiculously fancy hotel. Maybe the full body scrub and clay body wrap? Or a massage? Last night I had a pedicure and manicure. The beautician scrubbed my heels until they sparkled - all the rough skin and traveling gunk miraculously gone.

Yes, a massage is definitely in order. And a stiff cocktail. Maybe two. For some reason, no one in India has ever heard of a Rum Runner. Hello, People, what else are you supposed to drink while lounging about a super posh resort under the palm trees with a pool at your back and the ocean in front of you? Rum and fruit juice are the perfect thing to drink in the Islands... er, India.

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Update: After I got over the initial shock of the close call - or close save depending upon how you look at it - I resolved to have a brilliant second to last day. This entailed living it up at the resort and trying to ignore how much money I was spending. Things are so outrageously expensive that I might as well be tossing money about like flower petals just walking round the grounds. For example, while everywhere else in India using the internet costs about 20 rupees for a half hour (50 cents), at the hotel it costs 245 rupees ($6). Granted, still not an exorbitant sum but once you add meals, drinks, luxury and entertainment tax, and spa treatments to the cost of the internet, you can imagine how things add up.

But as I was saying, for today I attempted to ignore all of that. If I do say so myself, I did an admirable job. I discovered, when I met an American (from New Jersey!) reclining at the pool who chivalrously bought me a drink, that though there were no Rum Runners to be found, the hotel makes a decent Pina Colada. I also had a fantastically delicious lunch that included the most delicious coconut gelato I think I've ever had in my life. I'm serious, it was that good. Most of the day I spent lounging around the pool. In the hazy heat of the afternoon I managed to rouse myself long enough to walk down to the beach and then proceeded to lounge around down there. There were no more spa treatments, but I'm still thinking about them. That option may have been foreclosed by the fact that I think I seriously burned my tushie. On my second to last day!

I also managed to rearrange my Mumbai plans. The guy I met in the Delhi Airport offered to let me leave my bags at his hotel while I shop around Mumbai for a few hours. Then we're going to meet up for drinks. He's from Toronto, rather dashing looking, and, apparently, quite the hospitable gentleman. Ooh la la.