American View: In work and leisure everything that can go wrong will

Risk Management25 Mar 2025

This last week has been busy. Every day. Has meant waking at sunup and getting on the road to see the sites in Virginia’s “Historic Triangle” region. There are so many museums, battlefields, and local sites to see that it’s darned near impossible to see everything in a single week. We tried, though: put four hundred miles on our hire car and still had 80% of our wish list untouched. I’d love to say that it was our whirlwind tour that made it impractical to get a column written this time last week, but… no. You can blame that entirely on Murphy’s Law.

For context, my wife and I haven’t had a holiday in over five years. 2019 was our last; since then, a cavalcade of work, natural disasters, work, medical emergencies, work, family issues, and work conspired to sabotage every trip we’ve ever planned … until this spring. We narrowly managed to sneak away thanks to a series of happy accidents. Fortunately, we’re both seasoned travellers. We packed light and planned shrewdly. We triple-checked everything including each other’s load-out before heading to the airport. We were ready to recreate in someone else’s tourist district like Marines are always ready to storm someone else’s beach.

Our flight east was set for 7 pm on a Saturday evening. We were told to expect three hours in the air between Texas and Virginia. Then we’d sign for our hire car, drive 45 minutes or so to our pre-arranged lodging, check in, and be in bed before midnight local time. Easy-peasy. Our first event was scheduled for noon the following Sunday, so we’d have plenty of slack in our plan to accommodate “issues.”

This is where Murphy stepped in to gleefully chuck a spanner in the works. Even though we arrived at our departure gate early, massive storms had rolled in across the plains, racing east. Our entire route was threatened with severe straight-line winds and tornados. That naturally delayed our aircraft. Our 7 pm boarding time incrementally shifted to 9 pm as the ground crew struggled to refit our 737-800 for its next leg. That delay put us in danger of arriving just before midnight … not good, but manageable.

We’ve danced with Murphy too many times to gamble. My wife and I pack so that we’re always prepared to sprint between gates, terminals, or whatever.

Once we made it onto the aircraft, the co-pilot announced that we weren’t going anywhere until a new pilot-in-command joined us. We were told that the second pilot would be arriving on another bird and would have to race across DFW’s massive campus to link up. Another hour and a half passed before the breathless second pilot came aboard and started running his checklists.

Not long after taking his seat, the new pilot announced that we were being held at the gate until he received some paperwork from the ground crew. Every fifteen minutes after that, the pilot would repeat the same “15 more minutes” apology message. Once, twice, thrice … and then the pilot’s story changed: suddenly it wasn’t “paperwork” holding us up but a part that needed to be installed before we would be allowed to take off. A part that had to be secured from one of the massive hangers on the perimeter of the airport. I joked my wife that it was the “keep the wings attached bolt” and she glared at me hard enough to trigger another maintenance fault.

The crew finally closed the hatch well after midnight. To their credit, the pilots didn’t spare the horses; even though we had to veer a loooooooong way north to avoid the storms, the crew made darned good time getting us to the East Coast. Still, we didn’t and until half-three, leaving everyone groggy, hungry, drained, and stuck navigating an unfamiliar airport. No problem, though; Richmond isn’t that big an airport and there were no other passengers to navigate around … or airport workers for that matter. The entire airport seemed deserted.

After figuring out the airport’s layout, we discovered that all the hire core kiosks were closed and that no arrangements had been made to service contracted customers who had been delayed by inclement weather. There were also no taxis or busses serving the airport. We were stuck.

To add insult to injury, there were no accommodations anywhere near the airport, either. My wife and I were stuck in the airport until sunup. Remembering my experiences working the post-9/11 airport security mission, I found the airport’s tiny interfaith chapel tucked under an escalator near the admin offices. I figured we could get a few hours’ kip. As expected, no one noticed us there, let alone bothered us.

Travellers take note: the safest place you can be in a deserted airport at godawful o’clock is usually the chapel.

By the time the hire car people came to work, and the first car was turned in, it was well after sunup. Nonetheless, we finally got out wheels and made it to lodging just in time to get ready for our first scheduled appointment. We were sore, exhausted, hungry, and somewhat disagreeable, but we were back in the game. Mission accomplished. Maybe a bit worse for wear, but we arrived on-time.

The reason I’m sharing this story is because darned near every family vacation, work trip, and military mission I’ve ever experienced has been “blessed” with Murphy’s perverse shenanigans. The aphorism everything that can go wrong will, usually at the worst possible moment is a constant threat. This is why planning and preparing for contingencies are essential. Every threat requires a plan, and every plan requires its own backup plan. Every kit bag requires space for “what if?” supplies like cash, water, paracetamol, snacks, jackets, and bog roll. You don’t just need a phone charger; you need written copies of critical information for when your phone is fully discharged, lost, broken, or bricked. Always assume that everything will go “tango uniform” ^[1] and have another way to accomplish your objectives.

This isn’t to say that you should be a complete doomer; what’s the fun in that? Doomerism leads to surrender. Taking Murphy head-on is a exhortation to prepare. This goes for all aspects of life. Business Continuity and Disaster Preparedness (BC/DR) isn’t just an academic exercise for project management nerds. It’s how you avoid having to fight a coyote for your last Mars bar on a deserted country road in a thunderstorm. ^[2] The more you think through what Murphy might whimsically stick his finger in, the better you can outwit the patron jerk of misfortune.

My wife and I recovered from the inauspicious start to our long-overdue holiday and had a delightful week. We’d anticipated that our travel plans might go off the rails and kept our heads. That’s what BC/DR planning will do for you: it allows you to ignore the natural feelings of helplessness when disaster strikes and provides you with options to get things back on track.

Back in the early 2000s I had to travel cross-country while on crutches … during an ice storm. As far as travel miseries go, that’s my personal gold standard for staring Murphy down until he blinked first. I’m pretty sure I managed to survive that trip fuelled solely by spite.

As a non-leisure example, consider a SNAFU ^[4] from back when I was a tech consultant. My Texas-based director ordered me to meet him at the airport in Miami the following morning. It was one of his secret projects; I’d get briefed on my task once I arrived. I dutifully made last second flight arrangements, packed a bunch of suits, and got moving. When I arrived at Miami, though, the boss was nowhere to be found. I called his mobile and got shunted to voicemail. The crap-hat had either forgotten all about me (possible) or had just abandoned his employee on a whim (probable and wholly in-character).

I went to counter after counter at the hire car row and was told there were no cars available to rent since a huge professional wrestling convention was going on downtown. Murphy was messing with me, as expected. Rather than blow a gasket, I went through the hire car company loyalty program cards in my briefcase and phoned each “elite” customer service number until I found a company that could provide me a car. I sweet-talked the car counter fella into loaning me a map for the 100-mile drive to the venue and hit the road.

The countermeasure I’d employed – pre-emptively enrolling in every single hire car loyalty program in the USA – had paid off. I’d taken care of that months before to prepare for just such a logistical foul-up. I rarely every used this option, but on this one trip it was my ace-in-the-hole to make the mission happen. I arrived at the venue hotel, found my director ^[3] and got my marching orders.

BC/DR isn’t just a box-checking exercise to satisfy auditors; it’s a way of life on both the institutional and personal levels. If you’re going to travel, for work or leisure, accept that Murphy is always going to be your “plus one” and prepare accordingly. The holiday or operation you save will undoubtedly be your own.

^[1] A kid-friendly version of U.S. military slang for the acronym “Total Inability To Support Usual Performance.”

^[2] That’s a different story that I’m just not up to sharing.

^[3] Who never apologized for abandoning me, BTW.

^[4] A less kid-friendly version of ^[1], above.