First Class

It got dicey, folks.  I could’ve ended up in Chicago.  Or Detroit. 

But you remember where I was stranded, right?  Philadelphia. 

You know – where I’m from in a close enough kinda way.  Close enough to where my parents and brother still live in towns with names that nobody really knows so we just say we’re from Philadelphia.

Yep.  I was "stranded" all right.

So, I actually had somewhere to spend the night if I needed to.  Didn’t stop the tears though.  I’ve been told that I can be a little over the top sometimes. 

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Did I mention that I was going to Minnesota for a wedding reception on a riverboat?

The wedding was on Saturday at 1:30 PM Central Standard Time.  As of 8:08 PM Eastern Standard Time on Friday night, there were no departing flights to Minneapolis that would get me there on time.

Until my mom got involved. 

By the time my mom got off the phone with whomever she was talking to I was booked on an early morning flight from Philadelphia to DC to Minneapolis.  I was scheduled to land in Minneapolis at 12:05 PM Central Standard Time.  Plenty of time to make it to the wedding on time.   

Oh, and I was in first class. 

That’s what happens when my mom gets involved.

Travel Baggage

Two Fridays ago, I set off on an epic travel adventure.  I mean, it wasn’t around the world in 80 days epic.  Or even sail the ocean blue in 1492 epic. 

I was just trying to get to Minnesota. 

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When I was in 5^th grade, on the way home from school one day, the school bus driver forgot to stop at my stop.  I was terrified.  And I did what I always do when I’m scared.  I panicked.  And I started to cry.  Those tears were embarrassing because 1) I was a big 5^th Grader and 2) I was sobbing in front of my elementary school crush Greg Tarlo whom I was 97% sure was going to be my future husband one day. 

But as the bus rumbled past my stop, thoughts of my future marital bliss weren’t on my mind.  I was more concerned about where I was going to end up.  Even more concerning than that though was how I was going to communicate with my mom to tell her where I was once I ended up where I ended up.

This all happened before the age of the cell phone.  Before the car phone, even.  It was a time when people saved their quarters to pay Ma Bell for the privilege of using one of her phones.  Which worked great.  Unless you couldn’t hear on them.  Like me. 

The fear of being stuck somewhere without any way to communicate with my mother ship runs deep.  And usually results in lots of tears. 

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Two Fridays ago, at 3 in the afternoon, I set off on a trip that would end in Minneapolis at 8:00 Central Standard Time. 

By 3:45 PM, I ran into my first travel obstacle, a delayed flight from Baltimore to Philadelphia.  But I wasn’t worried…my flight from Philadelphia to Minneapolis was delayed too.  Travel Karma was on my side.

By 6:43 PM, Travel Karma had bitten me in the ass. 

By 7:05 PM, I was in full-scale-the-bus-driver-didn’t-stop-at-my-stop-and-what-if-I-never-see-my-family-again panic mode.

And then I started to cry.

I had no idea where I was going to end up. 

Two Fridays ago, it wasn’t Minnesota.