the ocean

Monday I had a quick trip to DC for work. Fly in, go to a meeting for a couple of hours, fly back out. No rollaboard needed, just a laptop bag under the seat. I didn't even bring my book, as a New Yorker with 1.5 interesting articles seemed to have it covered, along with my work. It was all going to be so easy. When I landed in DC, the sun was shining, and I heard a PA announcement telling Chicago bound passengers there was room on earlier flights if they happened to be in the terminal early. "Hey, maybe that will be me later today," I thought.

It was not. The actual me got the first notice of delay while I was still in my meeting. "It's fine," I thought, "This gives me more time to answer the client's questions afterwards." Then I got the second notice. "Well, I can just get dinner at the airport before I board," I thought. Then about ten minutes into my misbegotten adventure at Ben's Chili Bowl I got the notice the flight was delayed until 9 PM. My optimism began to fade, along with my tolerance for people shouting into their cell phones in my vicinity. Within another hour, the gate attendants started openly telling people that, although our flights weren't cancelled yet, they probably would be, as they wouldn't be able to get crews even if the weather did clear. 

Which is how I ended up spending the night at an airport hotel without the benefit of a change of clothes or toiletries. Fortunately, there was a CVS two blocks away, where I was able to buy contact solution and a box of cookie dough bites to drown my sorrows. I had planned to also buy a change of clothes there, but though they had a wide selection of misshapen DC-themed t-shirts, they did not have any pants or shorts for men. (To be fair, it probably doesn't come up much.)

So early the next morning I got back into my gently-abused suit and headed back to the airport, where I crammed myself into a middle seat and tried not to panic as they announced that we would be standing on the tarmac for a bit as they were "rerouting for weather." Ultimately, we did take off, I got a lovely Stroopwaffle for my troubles, and I made it back to Chicago. My job is endlessly glamorous, it is true.