The hurried departure of homo mastercardiens
I’m in London now, for my friend Vanessa’s wedding. Ran a little late setting out, as is my custom. I had a deadline that needed finishing at work before leaving, and 2.5 hours before takeoff I was still writing code, sleepless, nothing packed, wedding gift not bought (but decided on, thankfully).
I made the deadline (at least it seems done), but ended up packing in a bit of a hurry. Still remembered pretty much everything: the gift, sheet music to play in the ceremony, book to read on plane, tickets, passport, etc. Except for … the credit and debit cards. Left those at home. All of’em. Took no form of monetary representation with me.
Whoops.
Realized it at the airport and managed to withdraw some cash there using my passport as ID. That will be harder to do in a foreign bank; I should have taken more. Will figure something out, Visa emergency cash or whatever. But it’s remarkable how reliant one has become on these little pieces of plastic. It’s more than a nuisance to be without them — it feels downright insecure. What a silly feeling!