At six AM, the line already wound, several layers deep, around the American Airlines terminal. I was just one of hundreds of folks stranded from the previous evening’s cancelled flights. I took a deep breath, summoning whatever rest I’d gotten in my five short hours at the Comfort Suites, and yanked at my suitcase handle.
“I can do this.”
An hour or so later I would be sprinting through the terminal, my name echoing over the PA system, to board a plane that would never take off. I would be crestfallen. But it would not be the last plane that I’d make a dash for that would never leave the runway.
By noon on Saturday, I’d have been in marooned in Chicago for fifteen hours, having left New York City at 6pm the day before. I’d have broken down into quiet tears twice and into actual sobbing once — just long enough for an agent to take pity on me and book me into someone else’s seat on a Dallas-bound flight.
(Sorry, Someone Else.)
I’d have eaten three meals at unbelievably overpriced chain restaurants (a fine dining experience not covered by this month’s skimpy budget), finished eleven crossword puzzles (not the New York Times, natch), and read most of one Mary Higgins Clark novel (my favorite travel indulgence). I would be miles and hours away from Dallas and under the impression that my mother’s wedding was on Saturday evening.
The wedding would actually be scheduled to take place on Sunday.
That last little bit of information might have eliminated the one sobbing fit. Might. But by tears time, I would be working on four and half hours of sleep, the knowledge that my sisters were eating brownies baked for me and a whole host of other miscellaneous injustices.
I would be weak.
But at six AM, I was still full of hope. Or maybe that was just the coffee.
Oh goodness woman. No wonder you weren’t immediately psyched to travel again when I spoke to you. If it’s any consolation I totally would have cried as well.
I would have made numerous scenes cursing and screaming, too, but eventually I would have just cried.
Don’t worry, honey. Our wedding will go off without a hitch!
Not if you don’t fix that chapped lip problem, G.
We’ll both go and get bridal spa treatments together to fix me right up. It’ll be great!
Plus it can double as my bath for that week.
Heather- I am scraping for some witty remark, but …. *sigh* *hugs*.
Gregg
I would have been crying right there with you.
I can imagine your horror. All you can picture is your family having a great time and your mother walking down the isle while you are still sitting in the airport eating your $10.00 slice of pizza you bought at the cafateria. I would have cried too!
P.S. G try some chapstick, your lips will be smooth and soft in no time, and Heather will thank you for it.
dear lord, that’s so sad! especially for your mother’s wedding. the frustration is so palpable.
it took my sister and her husband 48 hours, once, to get from D.C. to HK, with i think 4(?) plane transfers? but they didn’t have a wedding to get to at the end of the trip!
I actually had to get G to buy a baby toothbrush and some lip goo. His girlfriend will thank me for it.
Oh honey,
too bad you didn’t contact one of your many Chicago-based fellow bloggers! I’m about 25 minutes from O’Hare. You could’ve crashed on my sofa while I monitored your flight situation.
Oh my gosh! That’s so terrible… I feel so bad for you but know that I would’ve been sobbing right there with you!
Dangit, Woman, I hope you got your brownie. You know, like five, at least, to make up for the three fits of tears. Two for the effort of it all. Hope the wedding made you cry, too.
Fish, I was there in Chicago!! stranded at an airport for the second time in 4 days. Only I was trying to get back to New York both times. I literally felt your pain – only my urgency to get home had nothing on your angst of possibly missing the wedding. Thank goodness for little angels like that agent that can see and deliver when we need it most.
If only I had run into you. We could have done a book and magazine swap bc I couldn’t afford to buy any more diversions! glad you made it there safely and in time for the happier moments.
It’s a wonder I hate flying. Damn the necessity.
fish –
it is always funny how, i love airports for the people watching – until i am forced (by delay) to sit and watch. and i swear, every time i go to the airport i am both selected as a likely terrorist candidate and frisked seven times before boarding or delayed or rerouted at least seven times before finally reaching my destination.
what i’d give for an old fashioned road trip.
natalie
You didnt know which day your mom’s wedding was on? hehe