Flights from HELL!!!

So, some of you know about my trip last month, to be with my grandmother when she passed away. This was VERY shortly after my husband had his stroke. Needless to say, I was a little stressed when, on Sunday, I boarded a plane in Indiana, ready to be home that night.

I got as far as Cincinnati before the torture started. Apparently, because of storms that hit the Midwest all weekend, flights to my NEXT stop were being delayed. This would have been a minor inconvenience (and a bit annoying) if it wasn't for the fact that I needed to connect from THAT flight to my home in Sioux Falls, SD. So, it became painfully clear that I was NOT going home that night.

I cried a little.

I cried a lot.

Noah's Ark couldn't have withstood this torrent.

Then my cell phone started to go dead... and guess where the charger was! In my checked luggage. Great. Wonderful. Fan-fucking-tastic. So there I was, sobbing my eyes out, calling everyone I could (while I still had enough phone juice to do so), letting them know I wouldn't be home that night.

My husband had planned on us having a late Thanksgiving dinner that night, so he had been cooking happily all day, knowing he'd get to see me again that evening (after a month apart, remember). He handled the bad news well... ok, he handled it beautifully. My mother was worried I'd be stuck in the airport all night, and so was I, on learning that EVERY SINGLE FLIGHT from Minneapolis (my next stop) to Sioux Falls (my destination) was overbooked the following day! So, even if I COULD get to Minneapolis, I wasn't getting home that night, and possibly not even Monday!

The crying began anew.

Around 8 PM, my wonderfully brilliant hubby called me with a last-ditch effort. If I could be rerouted to Denver, I could get home Monday. It wouldn't be that night, but I could have a guaranteed seat. I talked to the agent at the gate about it, and then my phone finally died completely. So Liz (the agent) let me use HER phone to call Jerry back, and the three of us put our heads together and figured it out. (Ok, they put their heads together. I played secretary and repeated messages back and forth because my brain was completely fried by this point.)

I had to rush through the concourse to get to my Denver flight, but was lucky enough that Liz knew to put me in my own row. So I got to stretch out, and even sleep (in between bouts of weeping). Delta Airlines paid for a very nice hotel room for me in Denver, so I didn't have to sleep in the airport, and even gave me a meal voucher to use on Monday to get some lunch while I waited for my flight home.

My flight from Denver to Sioux Falls was ALSO delayed, but fortunately that was my last leg, so I didn't really care HOW delayed it was, as long as it got me home.

Of course, my bag didn't make it with me.

I had to go back to the airport today to fill out a claim form for it, all ready to spend the next four days in my travel clothes (being the genius I am, I didn't think to pack some clothes in a carry-on), when I was given one more piece of GOOD news. My bag was there! They just had to scour the airport to track it down.

I am now home, wearing my deceased grandmother's rosary which is covered in Celtic symbols for our Irish heritage, in my pajama pants, and finally able to let everything out. It's about damn time, too.