No second chances

I spent most of 2009 contemplating one question: is there such thing as fate?

I'm not religious, but the idea of some 'higher being' having mapped out a story for each one of us appeals to the romantic side of me (yes, believe it or not, it exists). So, no matter how much you sway away from what is meant for you, somehow fate will bring you right back to it. It will throw up the right opportunities for you and should you mess up the first time you will get a second chance, because, hey, you're meant to go down that path! It's a comforting thought for people like me who spend most of their lives thinking and less of it actually 'doing'. I can choose not to act and still think I will get another chance. Fate will look after me.

I then start to think of all the children starving in Africa, or those living in war torn regions - suddenly my idea of fate doesn't sound too romantic. I don't see when they get their fairy tale ending.

After a whole year of questioning this concept, an incident proved to me that regardless of whether you believe in fate or not, if you're not prepared to act on what you want when an opportunity presents itself to you, then you have to be prepared to acknowledge the fact you may not get a second chance.

It was the most romantic scenario. The type that could inspire a Hollywood screen play. I'd missed my flight to Birmingham, because I got stupidly drunk the night before and slept in. I ran to the airport, but it was too late. I had to admit defeat and catch the next flight. Luckily, even though the next one was fully booked the staff managed to get me a seat.

I went back to the airport six hours later to catch my newly assigned flight and as I was sat at the departure gate, I saw a tall, dark and handsome guy sat opposite me. He looked over, I looked back. We exchanged several glances, I grinned under my fringe.

Boarding time and I was one of the last to get on the plane. As I scoured the seats to figure out where I would be sitting, I saw him straight ahead. I looked down at my ticket - 22I. I looked up at the seat numbers - he was sat in row 22, right next to the seat I was meant to be sitting in. I smiled to myself - these things NEVER usually happen to me. I'm always sat next to people with bad coughs, screaming children and alcoholics. Never the hot guy, though.

I sat down. He made a few jokes. I laughed and blushed a little. A little too good to be true, I thought to myself.

We took off and about an hour into the flight the woman next to me decided to make conversation. When he started chatting, it transpired that he wasn't even meant to be in that seat - the cabin crew had asked him to move. So not only was I not meant to be on that flight, he was not meant to be in that seat.

The woman on my right turned out to be a racist git, who made an inappropriate comment and stopped our conversation in its path. None of us spoke again until we landed. He offered to get my bag down from the hold and I accepted. I saw him again in the luggage hall, we exchanged a few more glances, then he disappeared through the 'nothing to declare' door at Birmingham Airport. Inside my heart was screaming 'do something,' but my head told me to just let it go. I took the easy option.

So, was it fate? Well, you would think so. I wasn't meant to be on the plane, he wasn't meant to be in the seat. Yet, I did nothing about it. I didn't even find his name out. And as a consequence, I will probably never see him again. He doesn't even live in Dubai - he lives in Doha. This dwindles the chances of meeting again down to virtually none.

So I begin 2010 with a new philosophy. I've forgotten about fate and I vow to act more on impulse. Magic doesn't just happen - you have to make it happen for you. Had I acted on flight EK to Birmingham, perhaps this story would have had a Hollywood ending. But I didn't. And I probably won't get that second chance.