Delayed flight...missed mass

On listening to a belated advice which opposed decisions that had already been taken,  the weight of the self incurred guilt made themselves more evident to me.  This heavy burden of inexplicable failure seemed to press so hard on my throat that it seemed as though my vocal cords wanted to hastily flee my body for safety exiting through my mouth.  This action of theirs seemed to have resulted in quite a commotion in body and thus, they (my vocal cords) got entangled in a big knot in my poor throat.  It hurt so bad. 
At this unfortunate moment, when the violin cords of my human voice, thus being impeded in my throat from making any movement either forward or backwards immediately, were required to make music.  My interlocutor, who had ceased speaking wanted a reply.  The reply had to be vocal. I could not substitute a facial show of emotion for this want of vocal reply as the powers of ordinary telephone communication could not capture them and transmit them. 
"Hello, are you alright" he said. Being thus urged on, I contrived to force my oral devices to work. Well, human history has shown that forced labour isn't the best.  Now my anatomy was to prove that to me.  Instead of producing the intelligible auditory waves of words by the movement of my lips, my mouth poured out mere air.  My eyes came to the rescue.  They issued forth their torrents of salt water in brotherly sympathy for my temporarily deceased vocal abilities. Instead of talking I cried. 
Oh! my mind! It couldn't go on a break, of course. It meticulously reminded me of how, I had missed mass on a Sunday in the hope of catching an afternoon flight, with the aim, amongst others of getting to my destination early enough to attend evening mass there.  It tortured me further by reminding me of my discussion with my friend at dawn. He had told me: "better miss a flight for a mass than miss a mass for a flight". 
At the time, my plan was to get a taxi, make the 3-hour journey to Maiduguri and catch up with the 9 or 9:30 mass at St Patricks cathedral there.  Well, I left Potiskum 1 hour behind schedule. Needless to mention that the majority of that hour was spent in waiting for fellow passengers.
I got to Maiduguri by 10:30am. 1 hour late for mass.  I decided to head straight to the airport and check-in for my 2 O'clock flight. I intended to head to St Leo's for the 6pm mass there after I would have arrived in Lagos at the scheduled 5pm.
The time is 15:21 as I type this and my plane has still not arrived.  My friend had hitherto been explaining to me how I should have gone for mass instead of the airport no matter how late I was.  According to him my not liking to go late for mass was just an undue regard for human feelings.  I confess now that it was simply my pride.
Ah! can we escape sin completely in this miserable life of ours on this sphere? Kaï!
To cap it all, while I was bewailing my woes,  I witnessed edimi's private jet take-off. Ah money dey insult pesin o! If I had my private jet now, all these things wouldn't have happened.
Let me come and be...seating.