Postscript to Back in EST

Cancelled  flights, long waits on the tarmac, missed connections … they’re a routine part of air travel these days. 

Simply because of the miles they rack up, business travelers endure more than most.  We who travel frequently pride ourselves on following a few simple rules:  a) Be resourceful and ready for a Plan B; b) Carryon luggage; c) Find the electrical outlet in the gate area and monopolize it; d) find the fastest  security lane and wear slip-on shoes (thanks “Up in the Air”; d) Be patiently indulgent when amateurs (people who only fly on vacations) tell “horror stories” about their recent airport adventures.

The good news?  New evidence that airport karma exists.  Or maybe it’s just the odds; at some point the angles have to line up in your favor rather than against.

Yesterday I posted the unlikely but true story of my hitchless journey from Montgomery to Washington via Atlanta.  The ease of getting out of Montgomery more than makes up for the pain involved in knowing that every trip from here on in — unless my destination is Dallas, Memphis or Atlanta — is bound to have two legs. 

Other elements of the trip, from the emptiness of the DCA-bound flight to the on-time departures to my ability to change today’s flight lest I get trapped in Washington under two feet of snow, were icing on the cake, rare instances where the air transport gods smile upon you. 

The good luck held up today.  Already checked in for the 8:30 Delta shuttle, I did not worry when last night’s local news covered “snowmageddon” by featuring footage from the airport and advice to travelers with later flights to avoid cancellation by getting on earlier flights.  My travel arrangements were made.  I went to bed knowing the only thing that could screw up my plans was if the snow started hours earlier than anticipated.

When I opened my eyes this morning I looked to the curtains I’d left open and saw heavy clouds but no snow.  Then I looked at the bedside clock-radio, the whose alarm I was unable to set last night.  Instead I used my trusty Blackberry.   The red digital numbers read 7:32.  NO!!!  But I set the Blackberry to 6:15 — how could this happen? 

Well, turns out time has been organized over the years.  First, there’s this thing called time zones.  I was sleeping in the Eastern zone; my Blackberry lives in Central.  Next, for those of us who don’t live by the military clock, we use AM and PM to distinguish morning from night.  My BB also thought it was nighttime. 

But here’s the miracle:  I jumped in the shower, pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, grabbed my stuff, checked out, jumped into a cab, got to DCA and waited on the security line where I pulled off my cowboy boots and set my laptop into the separate bin.  Once through security, I sprinted to the gate and, at 8:20, walked onto the flight. 

Landed in New York around 9:45 and was home in Staten Island by 10:30.  My cats did not greet me at the door.  In fact, I had to search the house for them.  But the house is clean and neat.  There’s a new black dishwasher that looks good in the kitchen.  A lot of stuff is gone, including a jug with eucalyptus that I’m hoping is around somewhere. 

And now, after a few hours, there’s a cat sleeping by my side.

It’s good when the gods smile.


3 Responses

  1. Having you in your house on SI….is oddly comforting to me…..have I ever told you about my separation anxiety? Glad that you got back….. 🙂

  2. Glad you’re safe and sound….and sounding happy. Stay warm!

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