I am not much of a believer these days. I am not into religion, spirituality or even karma. I don’t really believe in luck or universal truths on anything else. But even so there does seem to be another force which plays upon my life. It feels like Lemony Snicket’s A series of unfortunate events; although with far fewer evil uncles. One of my grandfathers was nicknamed Lucky. As a kid my Mum tells me he would blow on the deck for the older poker players. As a kid I knew he was lucky because he also had lots of winning scratchies at home. He kept them in the belly of a crochet cat wall hanging in the kitchen. Everytime I visited I had to check how many prizes Grandpa had won. I never knew about the thousands of cards with mismatched symbols discarded on the walk back home from the corner store. I have inherited only the tiniest bit of my grandfathers luck and (luckily not any of his penchant for scratchies) and for me it does the strangest things. Having a personality that is described as all or nothing also characterises also my luck. While I must admit the strangest most fortunate things happen to me, also the silliest, crappiest most annoyingly frustrating things in spells do to. I obviously want to take responsibility for some of it. I mean as far as to say that, I am in charge of my own ‘destiny’ when I choose to tempt ‘fate’ by getting out of bed just a couple of minutes too late every day of the week. Accidentally packing my keys somewhere in one of my bags, locking myself into my apartment, well, that was mostly me too. Missing the S-Bahn (still me), failing to find a taxi (who wants to drive a taxi at 5:30 in the morning?), running back to the station for the next one. Running the last all to familiar stretch from the station to the airport. A walkway longer than the actual runway and then the sinking realisation that even though I am there with forty minutes to spare (and I am flying with only the second most evil set of planes in the sky) no one is going to help me catch my plane. Rebooking luckily costs less than I imagine, with my flight organised I am going to seize the day, deposit my luggage in storage. And then I put the last of my coins in someone elses already occupied locker… I am at the carpark anyway, so Ill have that croissant I packed earlier for breakfast on the rooftop. I ride the lift to the top with my luggage and open the door, but the wind is far too strong for me to be comfortable. Abandoning that plan I go to push the lift button and find an empty electrical socket in its place. The great thing about my luck, karma or whatever is that it swings both ways. So while I am waiting for it to change I think I’ll just hang out here at the airport, on the top floor of the carpark.