If only it had been that simple.
Gad, what a long day it's been. Up at five, courtesy of terminally early and antsy Dad. Not that it mattered much, since I didn't sleep for stressing over whether the predicted whopping snow storm would arrive before or after I'd managed to make it to the airport 40 miles away. A long, white knuckled ride with Dad, who doesn't drive well in the dark (he's fine in daylight), but we beat the snow there, at least. Flight out at 8:15 AM to Detroit through lots of icy crap onto 2 inches of it on the runway and ramps. A one-mile (at least) jog on slidewalks from one gate to another that could not possibly have been farther away, arriving with minutes to spare, only to discover there was an unposted delay. Our plane was trapped in Wisconsin due to weather. Cooled my heels for two hours, boarded, pulled away from the gate . . . then sat there for another half hour waiting for a landing slot on the other end, where it was only raining, but very backed up. Once we got in the air, it was like the slow train to Peking, but without the rhythm. I think we were going just fast enough to keep the plane from falling out of the sky. Arriving over LaGuardia almost an hour and a half later, we circled the drain there waiting to land. I didn't start to relax until we actually got to the gate.
My mistake.
Long line for taxis, and when I got one, we got about 500 feet before another one pointed out we had a flat tire. At that point, you just have to laugh. It still doesn't match Gruhn's return-from-London-in-a-snowstorm saga, which is the original "Planes, Trains, and Open-Toed Shoes," but it was tiring.
I think I'm still in that sort of numb stage right now. We'll see how I sleep in my own bed, and if that helps. More when my head clears.
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