Actually I'm not lost. I managed to make it to Lexington. I didn't even arrive at the infamous hour of 10:30 p.m.
I arrived at 11:15.
Hey, what's a 16 1/2 hour trip to see my mama?
When I arrived my bag was not on the go-round thingy. But it was waiting for me at the American counter.
Thank you, God.
I almost didn't make it due to a few not-so-minor details. After trucking a good five miles from the United terminal to the American terminal, I checked in at the counter for a boarding pass. Gal looks at my ticket. "Well, they gave you a ticket but United never called over here to get you a seat assignment. So I'll give you a seat, but if more American passengers check in, I'll have to take it back."
"What? I've had this reservation for seven hours now."
"Sorry."
"I've never heard of a reservation being cancelled just because there was no seat assignment."
A shrug.
"But my bag's even been rerouted to this plane."
"Sorry."
Of course the American plane was also late. I had to wait another hour to find out if I even got on the thing. If not, I'd be on my own in Chicago for the night with no bag.
When I finally went to bed in Mom's guestroom I slept like a rock. Funny thing. I dreamed all night about killing a certain arrogant cardiologist while chanting, "I'm smarter than everybody. I'm a suspense novelist."
9 comments:
That's ok, just tell the arrogant cardiologist you meet that you're an Electrophysiologist. That will shut him down real fast. (EP's are above cardiologists, as they'll quickly explain) :)
Give my love to Mama Ruth. :)
Karen Eve
thats terrible that all that happened, although if you ever need a character to kill in one of your stories, you have a perfect one!
At least you kept your sense of humor! Are you dreading the return trip??
Brandilyn,
You should deduct the cost of your trip. Obviously, you've gathered enough material for another novel or two along the way. I'm all fired up to read about the gate agent found asphyxiated with a wad of boarding passes stuffed into their throat.
Ah, airlines. Sometimes driving cross country is faster! Make the murder scene in your next novel at O'Hare. I don't think I've EVER been on time through that place.
You could write in the etherial underground tunnel with the wack-a-doodle lights ;)
Oh, I love that "etherial underground tunnel with the wack-a-doodle lights."
I like the idea of you plotting a novel at the O'Hare airport. Maybe you could have the serial killer have a reaction to wack-a-doodle lights, go nuts and start wacking weary travelers. Just a thought.
A prisoner of hope,
Megan
Too funny! Nothing like sleeping in your mother's home!
Okay, the funny part was...
"I dreamed all night about killing a certain arrogant cardiologist while chanting, "I'm smarter than everybody. I'm a suspense novelist."
Not your airport nightmare! But then again, we do need to laugh more about the uncontrollables of life!
Is there going to be a book out of this? :)
Tina F
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