Ten years earlier, almost to the day, I had been back in school for a semester, commuting between school and my apartment in New York.

One day, I got into a fight with Crew Schedule over the phone. I needed a trade worked, but I was in an offline location and couldn’t get to the airline computer. They worked the trade for me, along with a hefty lecture that pretty soon I wouldn’t have any choice but to use the computer.

I was still furious.

Before I hung up, I screamed, “NO ONE, not you, not anyone, will make me use the computer.”

Ten years later, I bought one.

In 1990, things had deteriorated at home. My grandmother was seriously ill and needed round-the-clock care, so I moved back in with my parents.

One weekend, I needed a serious break.

I hopped a flight to Las Vegas.

Gambling wasn’t on my agenda, not in any serious sort of way. I wanted to get away, be alone, and hang out at a pool for a few days.

I checked into the hotel, changed clothes, and went downstairs to get the lay of the land.

Then Vegas got me.

The clatter of the machines. The bells. The sound of quarters cascading into the metal trays at the bottom.

I got a $10 roll of quarters, sat down, and made myself comfortable in front of a 25-cent five-card draw poker machine.

That $10 lasted a couple of hours.

I kept winning just enough to keep playing. By mid-afternoon, I was hungry, but I still hadn’t run out of quarters, so I stayed put.

At one point, I was up a few hundred dollars.

Then I started giving it back.

Time for dinner and a machine change.

When I returned, I settled into another part of the casino. A couple of hours later, my luck changed.

Quarters started tumbling out of the machine. Then more quarters. Then so many quarters that I had to go to the desk to collect the balance of my winnings.

Just under $1,200.

I cashed in every quarter for bills and hauled it back to my room.

I wasn’t about to give one quarter back to the house.

I threw my clothes into my suitcase, went downstairs, and checked out. I grabbed a cab, made it to the airport just in time for the all-nighter home, and never looked back.

After I boarded, I slept for a couple of hours.

When I woke up, I had decided.

I made the short trip to what is now Office Depot and bought my first computer.

A 286.

I stayed up all night deciphering DOS. By the time I could find my way around the computer, I needed sleep.

When I woke up, I loaded WordPerfect.

Another all-nighter.

By daybreak, I was proficient enough to find my way around that hideous white-on-blue interface that lacked menus.

By the fourth day, I was exhausted, so I took it easy.

I was awake enough, however, to realize something.

The money I had won in Las Vegas gave me a cushion. I could afford to take a month of PTO from TWA.

And somewhere during those four days, the computer I had sworn nobody would ever make me use had become something else entirely.

Somehow, some way, that 286 was going to be my ticket out.

Not out of TWA.

A ticket that would let me use TWA as a vacation from home whenever the mood struck me.

Sometimes, the thing you resist most is sitting there waiting to become your way forward.