I was jumping from a United Airlines flight over mid-Pennsylvania, finger tensed over the chute release cord, one eye on my wristwatch, praying to God that cell-phone coverage would work once I landed, and --through it all-- wondering how the hell things had gotten so damn out-of-hand.
(PS. Fortunately my contacts were reached, the money was wired to my account, and the helicopter left successfully with only slight weather delays, placing me on Russian soil well within the rendezvous parameters. Why the very next night I was in Moscow chatting it up with a lovely young thing named Svetlana, who had fortuitously already made the hotel reservations in advance. Of course neither of us was ever heard from again... but them's the breaks.)