You might already know that I’m not really a fan of forced gratitude or mandatory counting of blessings.
Which is why I have my list of 77 things that don’t completely suck for my Thanksgiving-inspired not-having-to-be-grateful gratitude practice.
And yet … here I am. Making a list of things I’m really, truly, sincerely appreciating right now. And it’s surprising the hell out of me.
Things I’m really, truly sincerely appreciating right now … despite being stranded in Tennessee.
Or maybe even because of it.
These are numbered because I feel like numbering stuff (indulge me!), but the order is pretty irrelevant. The order: it’s like the final score on Whose Line Is It Anyway.
1. My sweet love … aka the iPhone.
Spending half the day in an absurdly tiny airport and then not even getting on a flight …
The waiting-without-knowing can be really challenging. For me, at least.
Having some internet-ness and the twittering (and being able to text/call my gentleman friend) all without worrying about power cords and such was pretty cool.
2. My other sweet love.
Even from a gazillion miles away, my gentleman friend is the best commiserator ever.
He always knows exactly what to say and never tries to cheer me up by telling me that actually things are really okay.
And he can do the co-grumbling and the gratifying symbolic fist-shaking-at-the-heavens like nobody’s business.
3. The older man who drove the shuttle to the hotel.
I don’t remember his name and to be honest, I couldn’t understand more than about half of what he was saying because of the accent — but boy was he ever sweet.
Which is good.
Because I was feeling pretty cranky, what with the waiting and the wondering and then the “we’re canceling the flight that was supposed to leave three hours ago and we can’t put you on another one, so here’s a voucher for a hotel, see you tomorrow, bye” part.
And the even more annoying part of how they absolutely will not apologize even though that would so clearly earn them back a few mensch points.
Anyway, this guy was awesome.
He talked my ear off about everything. The local area (born and raised). And about what food to eat (“there’s a Mexican place where I never understand what I’m eating but I always order the #6”).
And about how wonderful the hotel he works for is. Seriously. Never have I heard anyone wax so poetic about a barely run-of-the-mill chain before.
But he loves his job and you can totally tell.
“Oh, Miss Trish! That Miss Trish will take care of you! And there’s breakfast. And it’s good. It’s real good.”
4. Being cared for by Miss Trish.
Really, she’s that good.
And cheerful. The exact kind of cheer that I’m needing right now.
5. The niceness in general.
I don’t know if it’s just southerners doing the southern thing.
Is that a horrible stereotype? Are southerners really more easy going than everyone else in North America?
Because it could be that I just happened to bump into a bunch of especially cheerful people, but man. Cheerful in the face of ludicrous wrongness — but in an endearing, inspiring way instead of an annoying one.
It really seems as though everyone around me is so much more patient and kind than I am. And for some reason even that doesn’t annoy me today.
6. Not being poor anymore.
It helps.
It helps with the not panicking when things go not according to plan.
This is not my last five dollars. I can buy something to eat. If I have to take a cab somewhere, it’s a thing I can do.
Whew.
I am so very thankful for that.
7. Having three different people model for me what the right attitude is.
The right attitude? Meh. I don’t know. A useful attitude.
There was the woman who travels to and from St. Louis at least once a week. Sensible clothes, ponytail, earrings that did sparkly things.
She said, “I used to get so mad at this stuff. It would make me completely crazy. Until I realized that all that does is make you more crazy. Not worth it. Not worth the crazy.”
There was the guy with the long hair who had just come back from the Nascar race in Bristol and he turned to me and said, “Isn’t this fun?”
Me: “Mmmm … that’s one word for it.”
And he laughed like it was the funniest situation that anyone could possibly get himself into.
And there were the two hilarious women from Sioux Falls, obviously old friends, who regaled me with tales of the dozens of bizarre and awful things that had happened to them on their way here.
And how they’d just given up and gone to drink bourbon at the airport bar, and cackle about it. They were awesome.
8. People to laugh with.
It helps.
Laughing alone just isn’t as much fun.
8.5. Not alone.
I have Selma. I have my thoughts. I have people I know (Tara the Blonde Chicken!) who care about me and can take care of me if things go weird.
In fact, because of the crazy magic of Twitter, I could get “stranded” pretty much anywhere and still know people there.
9. A forced vacation is a good thing too.
Right?
Special postscript in case you happen to be related to me:
You don’t have to worry. I’m fine. I got a lovely hotel room and another flight home … everything worked out perfectly.
Whee.
Comment Zen for today:
- Disastrous travel stories of your own are welcome!
- Commiseration = also good.
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Yay for awesome things that show up when life is being stupid! I love meeting those random people who just make awful situations that much more bearable.
Travel disasters?
The boyfriend and I, going from Moncton, New Brunswick to Montreal by train, the train broke down. In the words of our steward:
“Well, it was pretty serious, but no one got hurt, so that’s a good thing.”
Oh. Well isn’t that good. Except we’re not going to make our train back to Toronto, so how in the heck are we going to get home?!
In the end they stuck us on another train back. But there was an hour where we sat there, looking at each other, going – so who wants to come pick us up in Montreal? Cus I was actually down to my last $10. It was exciting. And that was the one time I didn’t meet any awesome people and instead had to listen to the Red Hat Society lady snore for the next 2 hours.
Good times.
I’m totally with you on the “waiting and not knowing”. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) I’ve been getting some intensive training on dealing with that lately, but I still don’t like it.
However, I’m glad some good stuff happened while all the waiting-and-wondering happened. Meeting random cool people is one of my favorite things in life, and it sounds like you did get to do that!
And welcome home! I’m very glad you’re safe and home and things are okay now. *Sometimes* remembering things that I appreciate/am grateful for is actually helpful. Thanks for helping me realize that, when it’s the opposite of helpful, that’s all it is and it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me!
.-= Anna-Liza´s last post … Mr. Pollyanna Is Playing with Fire. Again. Come Watch! =-.
Are you home yet? She hopes. 🙂 Stuck in airports is no fun. I sometimes wish I were my mother. When she got stuck in airports or on long flights she ended up with experiences like:
1. Sitting next to Vincent Price and talking cooking for 4 hours.
2. Sitting next to Robert Redford and discussing nature conservation for two hours.
Me? I tend to get the woman who is having a very rough time at home and needs to vent and wants suggestions for fixing it. Makes my helper-self happy, but it’s very very tiring.
And Havi? It’s been my experience in the 10 years I’ve been out here that it really IS a Southern thing. 🙂 (It’s also a rural Oregon thing… but I didn’t get so many opportunities to experience that.)
.-= G. Romilly´s last post … When the Universe Yells at you, you Listen! =-.
When I was pregnant with Deva I flew out of National Airport into Newark, where I was promptly stuck for 7+ hours thanks to a big storm that hit the East coast. I was poor, only had maybe $2 on me, but while commiserating with some of my fellow passengers, I was able to barter food/drink for luggage sitting. It turned into “not so bad”, though back then no one had cell phones and there was no talking with anyone not in the airport with me. Then when I finally got home I had to tell my parents I was pregnant. Um, yeah. 🙂
.-= Andi´s last post … You’re My Inspiration =-.
Honestly, sometimes it’s travel disasters that show us the best parts of people. Like the time I was coming home from visiting my gentleman friend (at the time) who lived in Chicago, and totalled my car in a multiple car pileup still 3.5 hours away from home. Of course, my parents were out of town that weekend, so they couldn’t get me, and my best friend was on call at the hospital, so I was stuck without people to pick me up until my best friend finished her rotation. But, the policeman who came to the wreck drove me to the lot where they towed my car, and offered to come back after his shift was over to drive me to the state line on his evening free time (which was a good two hours away yet). The folks at the wrecking lot were extremely kind to me, made a run to the drug store for aspirin, and even went out and bought me dinner, even though I had only a credit card on me, and they paid for it. I was really stunned at everyone’s willingness to help me when I needed it, even though none of them had ever met me or knew anything about me. It was a good lesson to take with me.
.-= Abby´s last post … Learning Lindy =-.
Hey guys!
@Andi – bartering for luggage-sitting! That is genius. I wish I’d thought of that during some of my “this is my last fifty cents” time of life. Wow. You’re amazing.
@Romilly – !
No, still in Tennessee …
But now I’m in Tennessee having disturbing fantasies involving Vincent Price and Robert Redford, thank you very much. 🙂
Whoo! Travel disaster stories. They totally help.
I’ve flown across the country every summer of my life, by myself, since I was 7.
That first year, I puked everyone (so that’s really a bad-travel story for the guy in the suit next to me that puked on my 7 yr old, terrified Tara).
Until this summer (20 years later), I’ve never had a missed or canceled flight or a single piece of missing luggage.
I do fear that August is my month for travel woes and they just spilled right onto you. Oh dear.
So far this month:
-Jay’s missed a plane, due to the airport’s tiny-ness.
-He waited 8 hours in Atlanta, not sure if he’d get to PDX in time for our train. He arrived in time, but…
-We missed the train anyhow and had to pay a big chunk to get put on the NEXT train, which was 24 hours later.
-Jay’s luggage didn’t leave Atlanta when he did, so they delivered it at 2 am in the morning.
-I got on the wrong bus and rode for 45 minutes before I realized it.
-The last leg of our flight home was canceled and we were told we’d be in the Charlotte airport for 10 hours!
Add in the Sanders tangle and you have quite a picture of my bad-travel-mojo!
.-= Tara´s last post … Seattle A-Go-Go =-.
One time I took a trip to Scotland. It was not going well, and I decided to come home early. I showed up at the airport with nothing but a prayer that they would take pity on me and let me change my flight. When the man at the counter said, yes, we can put you on today’s flight, I wept actual tears of gratitude and joy.
The flight was delayed, so they bought me lunch. The flight was delayed again, so they bought me dinner. The flight was cancelled, so they put me up in a (nice!) hotel and gave me breakfast. The next day the plane was still not ready to fly, so they transferred me to another airline and sent me home first class. I had to route through another city, and on the 2nd leg of that first class trip, we had a 3-hour delay on the runway. The flight attendant kept bringing wine and even sent me and another girl home with a full bottle of wine. Everyone else was so mad about the delays and I was just grinning ear to ear to be sitting in the airport instead of what I had been doing.
Hmm, not very disaster-y story is it? Oh, how about the time I was supposed to go on a trip out of the country, set my passport on the table by the door so I would see it and take it on my way out, the dog got it, so I didn’t see it, so I forgot it, so I couldn’t go on the trip and my mom lost all this money she had paid for the trip? And if I’d only passed my driver’s test I would have been able to go using my license so it was doubly my fault? That one sucked!
I hope you get home soon and that your time in TN stays good. I agree that it is a southern thing about the people being nice.
.-= Darcy´s last post … Movie: Paper Heart =-.
I remember my sister’s flight to the east coast over Christmas. It took them two or three days and was so full of disasters that the pilot bumped them up to first class for a leg because he overheard her reciting her litany of things-that-went-wrong to the gate agent and felt so sorry for them. She learned to knit during that trip because it kept her partially sane.
My worst trip involved a storm, a small plane, me getting deathly sick, and bumping my head on the ceiling to boot. When I got home from that trip, I was willing to never ever fly again.
Ugh. Travel disasters. So sorry you got stuck – but glad you’re finally home.
.-= elizabeth´s last post … feeding fear =-.
The Tennessee folks really are that way – the good ones. And if they take a dislike to you, are the other way as can be. Not much half-way with them.
In a way, you’re lucky. Being stranded in Atlanta is nowhere near as good. Too big city.
And what is it with airlines? Not even a perfunctory and insincere “We’re sorry for all your trouble.” I can understand them not saying, “It’s totally our fault,” but seriously, there have been times I’d rather take the bus.
It’s good to know you’re surrounded by kindness and love, even though you’re stranded in Tennessee. Wishing you a safe flight home soon!
Back in the ’70’s, I was at a one-month meditation retreat at a Buddhist retreat center in Bodh Gaya (a very small town in India where the Buddha gained enlightenment while sitting under a Bodhi tree).
The kitchen at the retreat center was overrun by mice–they would scamper in and out of the vats of food that were set on the counters to cool before every meal. The cooks fed the mice (they were Buddhists, and didn’t believe in harming any living creature, not even by transporting the mice somewhere else), so we all ate, democratically, from the same pots of dal and rice.
We had just begun a series of teachings on the Hell Realms when the inevitable happened and first one person, then another, scurried out of the meditation hall looking pale and queasy. Their departure was followed by sounds of painful retching, which the rest of us were instructed to ignore.
Within the next half-hour, all of us were outside in the December sunshine, evacuating the contents of our stomachs on the grass just beside the meditation hall.
We were miles away from the nearest hospital, and there weren’t enough beds or transportation for the forty or so people who became violently ill with food poisoning that day. Eventually, the hospital sent orderlies and a couple of doctors, along with portable IV units, to our aid.
People were lying on the grass, groaning in agony, with IV drips in their arms held aloft on makeshift poles. I remember looking up between bouts of vomiting and thinking: “Hell Realms!”
There was a mass exodus of students the next day, as people headed into town to try and catch the next bus or train or taxi out of there.
I moved to the hostel at the Burmese temple, and spent a few more days recovering in a tiny, windowless room, sipping water from a clay cup and sleeping in between bouts of stomach cramps and nausea. On the fourth day I made the long trek from Bodh Gaya to Varanasi, and back to Delhi.
Not enlightened, but fifteen pounds lighter!
.-= Hiro Boga´s last post … Sunday Poem #6 =-.
I’m an avid traveler and cannot imagine a life without it. Your experiences, Havi, in the Tennessee airport only remind my of ALL those times I have spent tapping my feet waiting to get somewhere. But, it always seems to be those times when we want the world to do something different than it will that we seem to learn most, right?
Yesterday, I was locked up in the Westport, NY train station waiting for the rail to arrive from Montreal to take me back to NYC. Apparently the locals know it is never on time due to a customs check at the border.
In my moments of dread, my need to get back to the city and live an anxious life, I surrendered to the moment and somehow the day turned from gray to sunny. I learned more about my husband than I knew before — that he likes M & M’s out of a vending machine just as much as I do! Small gifts we are given.
@Havi – sorry about the disturbing fantasies. They really were very nice people, and Mom had a blast talking to them.
My travel disaster stories are all really tame and not disasters. The airline lost a bag once. But they found it and delivered it to me, so not really a disaster.
.-= G. Romilly´s last post … When the Universe Yells at you, you Listen! =-.
Oh! Travel disasters? There was the time I had two-year old and I was 6 months pregnant and we were stranded *inside the plane* on the runway in Dallas during an ice storm, for almost eight hours. And, once we finally were allowed off the plane, sitting mute with terror while my then-husband tried to find the hotel where we had vouchers in a rented Cadillac over the ice ruts …
There was the time I miscalculated and ended up having to buy gas in a strange place after dark, with my two small kids in the car. There was a really drunk guy who wouldn’t leave me alone, and then this angel in a pickup truck drove up, assessed the situation in about one second, then turned to me and said, “Why don’t you go on in there and I’ll pump your gas. Just tell the clerk to watch for when it’s done.” And he also engaged the drunk so he wouldn’t bug me anymore. That one was also a southern story – it happened in Galveston.
.-= Anna-Liza´s last post … Mr. Pollyanna Is Playing with Fire. Again. Come Watch! =-.
It’s true, it can happen. Helpful people showing up a the right time. I’m fortunate to have never been stranded in an airport, but have had a few automobile misadventures.
Breaking down on the off ramp of 95 into Philly around midnight (pre-cell phone) and having a nice man (which I desperately hoped was the case before I got in his car) drive me to my apartment some 15 miles away.
Having a NJ (!) state trooper change my tire for me.
Having various strangers push-start my VW because the ignition would fail whenever I shut off my car for gas.
Some years later (again in a VW van) the ‘hell realms’ (thanks Hiro) trek across the country with not yet husband and the same ignition problem. Met many nice people, though, in Bozeman, MT, and Idaho, and Washington, and Oregon as a result…
.. and then getting stranded for four days in Kingman, AZ.. the only blessing then being a wealthy and generous brother-in-law and Western Union, so we could buy a new engine and get the hell out of what was quickly becoming a scene in a David Lynch film. (Shudder) We might still be there had my gentleman friend not sat himself down on a case of beer in the garage, after cracking one open, and telling the mechanics that he was going to sit there and drink them all until they got our van done.
See why I married him?
.-= Gina´s last post … Home Again =-.
hmm, no travel commiseration, but I will second you on the southern friendly thing.
We visited Kentucky last weekend and had really great service the whole time: from the experienced waiter at the middle of the road hotel, from the pretty sure it was his first day waiter at the swanky hotel, from the gosh-darn wendys where we ended up eating lunch in a rush.
At first I figured it was coincidence, but really, every single place.
Kentucky isn’t even that far south!
Oh, yay, I’m so glad the South has been kind to you! We are sort of famous for that.
And I agree with Walter-as cool as it would be to get to meet you in person, I’m really glad you’re not stranded here in Atlanta. Atlanta is not a good place to be stranded with travel issues. *We* are unfortunately sort of infamous for that.
.-= Jenny Ryan´s last post … From My Sister-In-Law =-.
Coming home from a semester in London while in college I had one of those crazy delay experiences.
I flew from London to Houston–worst place to go through customs! Arggh! The customs guy was going through my address book and asking me questions about people listed in there. Seriously? Dude, I’m a blond-headed girl from the suburbs, and this was in the 80s before all the crazy terrorism stuff. It was the first time I was ever interrogated and made to feel like I had done something wrong just by coming home.
I ballparked the amount of stuff I was declaring because after six months I really had no idea how much money I had spent on things I was bringing back in. I said $500 and then found out that was $100 more than what they don’t charge you for and had to pay $10. Did I mention I was coming home on my last $15?
I paid a couple more bucks for a smart cart thingie because I couldn’t handle all my bags by myself.
Then I found out I had a four-hour delay. I had a few quarters so I tried calling on old friend from camp (the only friend I knew in Houston) just to catch up. The phone sucked down two of my quarters before I got her answering machine.
I think I had about two dollars left and I was really hungry, tired and starting to get miserable when I looked up and saw this lady walking down the concourse to my gate with a big straw hat and a couple of straw bags. Totally a tourist coming back from the islands or something.
As she got closer I was like, OMG, that’s Cheryl! I knew her from my summers of sailboat racing. She was on her way back home too after a 5-day sailboat race from the Gulf Coast of Florida to Mexico. She took me under her sailing-tanned wing, bought us dinner and drinks which we barely had time to finish because they called our flight earlier than expected and we were headed home.
I will never forget that feeling of having exactly the person you need walk toward you at the moment you are most in need=total grace.
Hope you’re on your way home soon, Havi!!
Ugh, I just cannot get on board with forced gratitude list making and this spontaneous kind feels so much nicer. And also the final score of Whose Line is it Anyway. Love.
Terrible travel stories…*she drums her fingers against her cheek thoughtfully* ~there are so many. But in the spirit of your post, I’ll tell one that turned out well. My parents are divorced and as a kid I would crisscross the country alone way younger than appropriate. Once, at about 10 years old, I had a layover in San Francisco and my flight was delayed about 8 hours. You know, the fog. And my parents and older sister were freaking out, calling the airport personnel nonstop, chewing out every poor soul who answered their calls, because “she’s just a kid traveling alone and couldn’t they get me on a flight and blabblahblah.” They were paging me on that “white paging phone” every fifteen minutes.
And I was peachy. Perfectly happy. Come on, this is the city of Ghirardelli and I had cash in my pocket. I was knee deep in chocolate fudge and probably engrossed in some Baby Sitters club book.
Glad you’re safe and happy!
.-= Briana´s last post … Passion. Or, do what you love. Or, do what you do. =-.
Oh Havi, poor sweetie! I understand how not fun it must have been to realise you were stranded in Tennessee. I have to say, though, that your account totally makes me feel like if I have to be stranded somewhere someday, I want it to be in Tennessee! It’s awesome that you could write such a great list of things you are thankful for.
My travel disaster?
When my visa wasn’t extended to cover the whole of my planned stay in Iran (long story in itself), I had to quickly change my flights. I was fine from Tehran to just about anywhere in Europe, but it was August, so every flight from Europe to Montreal and even Toronto was full. If I had to be stranded somewhere in standby for an undeterminate amount of time, I wanted it to be in Paris, where I had friends. Well, it turned out that my friends were either in vacation or having people over, so they couldn’t be of much help. Still, it was good to be in a place I knew. And I have this friend who works at the airport and is involved with union stuff, so he got some of his colleagues to let me sleep for a couple of nights on the floor of union offices, which was perfect because I had to spend my days (every single day) at the airport in standby. The other nights, I had to go and find a place where I could drop my luggage (including a whole suitcase full of books in Farsi – lots of fun in the métro stairways…), and we’d spend the night walking in Paris.
When I finally got on a plane almost a week (yes, a week!) later, I was exhausted but somehow exhilarated. One thing for sure, that’s a week I’ll never forget.
.-= Josiane´s last post … Retreating to write – and being treated to so much more =-.
I have two bad travel stories that relate to each other. When I was traveling home in December 1998 for the holidays and when I was traveling back. I was in college, in Nebraska, and taking the Greyhound to Minnesota. I managed a ride from the Dorm mother and her husband, and waited at the bus terminal for hours. Finally came time for the terminal itself to close, and the bus STILL hadn’t arrived. By 1 am, I was standing outside the terminal, in Lincoln Nebraska, trying desperately to find anyone still in the dorms. I finally got through to one friend, who drove 40 miles to get me.
The next day, I had to call my parents, get another ride, and take the bus. I wrote a complaint letter to Greyhound, and while I did get an apology, there was no other compensation for being stranded in a large city in the middle of the night in December.
About a week or so later, I was ready to travel back to Nebraska for the next term. I had to work the day after my scheduled arrival. I was at the bus station with my mom when the bus I was supposed to take, the express route, was either late, or not coming. I was put on the next bus, only 15 minutes later, but this route stopped at every tiny town on the way to Minneapolis. I missed my connection by 30 minutes. This time, my ticket was refunded, the staff put my luggage on the cart in a secured area so I wouldn’t have to watch it, let me call my ride in Nebraska to make new arrangements, and generally made me feel a lot better about the situation, even though it still was not ideal. The plus to having to wait for 6 hours for the next bus: meeting a guy on the stretch to Des Moines who would turn out to be a really great friend for several years.
All in all, I may have been better off staying in Nebraska for the holidays that year, but it still turned out well in the end.
Happy to hear that you’re safe and feeling better about being stuck in Tennessee.
.-= Misty´s last post … Coming soon: Origami Projects =-.
I’m glad you found some good in the situation! I’m pretty sure that’s an art form! I don’t travel very much, and have to admit that I’m not a good traveler because things like what you’ve experienced just send me into orbit. My flight was delayed for hours in Nashville once and I’m pretty sure I pouted like a child while my mom looked at me like I was some kind of alien. I think she gave me a break because my dog had died the week before and our trip to Nashville hadn’t been as much of a stress-free getaway as I’d needed it to be (crappy hotel, 5000 degrees outside the entire time).
Glad you’re encountering some Southern hospitality and friendliness! It’s not a myth. 🙂 May you never encounter the sort of Southerner who graces the Jerry Springer show!
Ummmm, Havi — read over your Aug 23 Personal Ad. In which you ask for: “So: I would like some tiny, sweet moments of quiet. Moments of grace, spaciousness, expansiveness.” Timne off from all the busy, you said. The Universe, I find, has both a sense of humor and a way of bringing about our intentions in ways we can’t even begin to anticipate — or often, in the moment, even come close to appreciating. Many times we need only look back at the experience and say, ohhhhhhh . . . okay, I get it now.
— Suzie
Wow, this post really rocked, Havi! And it really spoke to me too. I am so awful at doing the “waiting in airports/things not going to plan” thing. And it was so gratifying to read how you genuinely, authentically, found your way through it to be able to laugh and appreciate the things that are good about snafus. Not in the forced Pollyanna silver lining b.s. way. But in your own incredibly genuine, wonderful, wacky, loving, human way.
My own travel disasters have included having two flights turned around for mechanical problems (my original flight from San fran to St. Louis, then my rebooked flight from LAX to St.Louis) and not knowing if I would get to Carbondale, Illinois in time for my mother’s 80th surprise birthday party. Which I was hosting. At the time, it felt like the end of the world. Two planes having mechanical problems. On the same day. On the same journey. I felt so cursed.
And I couldn’t not get to the party. The stakes were huge. This was my celebration of my mom’s life. While she was (is) still alive. Her moment in the sun. Which she didn’t know was happening, which had taken some doing. My brother and his wife were flying in too. I was so distraught. My husband kept saying “what can we do about it.” (not helpful). And finally I just had to surrender. And then moments after surrendering I started bargaining. With God and the universe to help me get home to honor my mom. You can screw up my next 5 vacations, I prayed, just let me get home in time for the party.
And after I completely fell apart, the airline person made an announcement that they got us another plane. And we made it. Got into our hotel at about 3 am, got up at 7 to get things going. But we made it.
Don’t know that there’s any larnin’ in there, but I can so share your pain.
So glad you made it home safely. Thanks for the great post.
A few years ago I was flying home on Christmas Eve. I had a layover in Phoenix and was feeling pretty bummed about missing all the good food and fun stuff going on at home. I was sitting in the floor near the security check point and encountered the sweetest old man. He was standing at the exit with a santa hat on and a big smile and wave for everyone. He sang carols and wished all the airport staff a Merry Christmas and knew them all by name! I heard him say he did this every year because he knew it was tough on them working through the holiday. His joy and generosity was amazing and made even the most angry frustrated travelers smile as they walked through. It sure made me feel a lot better too.
Oh, all the bad travel experiences are blurring together, so I can’t even remember which trip was which. There was taking 3 flights in one day with an ear infection (ow! ow! ow!), carrying my bike and my luggage all by myself (long story about being raised feeling like I have no right to ask anyone for help ever) and getting a herniated disc as a result, the airline nearly breaking my bike, the airline losing my luggage so I missed my connecting flight and I couldn’t call my friend who was supposed to pick me up because there weren’t any pay phones in the room where I was waiting to file the luggage claim and they wouldn’t let anyone leave the room and come back in and I didn’t have a cell phone and asking someone else to borrow theirs? That would be asking for help, see above. When I finally called her she had already left so I left a message on her voicemail, hoping she would check it when I wasn’t there, but eventually she just went home pissed, then got the message, and I finally got a hold of her to tell her what flight I would be on, and she came to pick me up, but she was still really pissed, and told me a few months later that she no longer considered me her friend and hadn’t in years, that she felt I was only pretending to be her friend so she would do me favors, totally discounting all the favors I had done her, and reinforcing my feeling that I should never ask anyone for help ever. Sigh. I guess you find out who your friends are.
.-= Riin´s last post … Amazing =-.
I will say right up front that the story I’m about to tell does not compare to the rest in this thread, disaster-wise.
But coming home from the retreat this past Sunday, when I’m doing my very best to preserve the bliss and protect my raw-and-sensitive (in a good way) self from mundane and frustrating “real life” for as long as possible…
I got seated one row in front of a family who, even at the gate before boarding, I had pegged as the people I didn’t want to be seated near.
Out of control kids, bickering parents.
And it continued for the whole flight. At one point it deteriorated into a full-blown tantrum from the kids.
And the mom repeating each question to her kid at least 5 times. “Do you want a juice box? Do you want a juice box? Do you want a juice box?…” Gaaaaaaaah!
Lots of seat-kicking going on behind me.
(Was really wishing for some of that Healthy Boundaries spray. Oh, and some Serenity Now! spray, too.)
Thank goodness Eileen gave me her book that she had finished so I could try to lose myself in it.
On a positive note, the flight wasn’t delayed, I wasn’t forced to check a bag, and I came home to Thai food take-out and a fridge full of groceries, thanks to the Hubs. That helped to wash that travel ick away.
DARCY ! do not take the plane out of scotland -take train not delayed by bad weather and quicker once you factor in shlepping to airports.
Will not bore you with my hideous plane hell stories.
All I can say is the best travel snafu’s can become whacky adventures if you reframe it. Like the guy who had just been released from jail for 13 yrs murder rap on the SF to LA train…
Oy, travel disasters… Let’s see… The flight I was supposed to take from Honolulu to Vancouver when I was moving back to the mainland was canceled because of mechanical problems (but yay for finding out about the mechanical problems before we got in the sky). I found this out when I did the couple hour ahead of time check-in call, but there was nothing they could do over the phone. So, my lovely friends hastened me to the airport. My options were waiting for the next night, or getting put on an Air Canada flight that left at 3:30 in the morning. Having already spent the day saying many tearful goodbyes and not wanting to do *that* all over again the next day, I opted for Air Canada. (Canadians? As nice as southerners, generally.)
So, I shooed my friends back to their house and hung at the airport for the next eight hours. Sadly, I failed to remember that the restaurants in the airport open only at very specific times to handle masses of incoming and outgoing passengers. This was not one of those times. I had my emergency granola bar and some chips from the newsstand.
The flight was generally uneventful, except that my seat was right smack in front of the big movie screen and I sat next to a backpacker with a stinky wool sweater who spilled his orange juice all over me during the breakfast service.
I got through customs just in time to see my bus to Victoria pulling away, with the next one not coming for two hours. I was incredibly tired and cranky and desperately needed a shower, but I had to sit in the exhaust-laden pickups area to wait for the next bus. But when it finally came (late), the nice driver told me I had plenty of time to go change and get something to eat and drink, which I did. And from that minute on, it was the trip of a lifetime.
I like to think that we got all the nasty things that could go wrong out of the way on that first day so that I could really enjoy the next seven weeks of traveling across the country withou any major mishaps. (One slightly disconcerting side trip through a weird little town in Arizone [or was it New Mexico?] at which I opted to keep driving instead of stopping for something to eat — it looked like one of those places straight out of a Stephen King movie.)
.-= Lori Paximadis´s last post … it’s a book! =-.
I spent 16 months traveling back and forth from Chicago to Atlanta so I can more than attest to the niceness of Southerners. Even though they kept telling me that the “War of Northern Agression” wasn’t over yet, they took real good care of me and always made sure I had what I needed. I still travel to Chattanooga or Atlanta every few months and I’m always impressed by how cordial and genuinely friendly every one is.
Glad you have a hotel and a flight home.
Ack! Hope you’re sorted by now, Havi.
I love these! Especially Darcy’s anti-disaster. And Hiro, unbelievable! My favorite stranding was… huh, I don’t even remember where it was. Some midsize US airport. One of those deals where things were going from bad to worse – the incoming plane was a little late, then officially delayed, then not coming at all and clearly nobody in charge had any idea what was going on. I settled in with a book. A lady starting asking frantic questions to noone in particular: what time are we leaving? where’s the plane? will they serve dinner? are they sending another plane? will there be dinner?!
Then, a rumpled older British guy started answering – Why, yes, I believe they’re sending a fleet of small private jets. Dinner? But of course. You’ll have your choice of filet mignon or lobster. Followed, of course, by champagne and straaawb’rries.
The lady looked at him like he was crazy, but he and I laughed ourselves silly imagining the luxuries that awaited us when – and if – the plane ever showed up.
.-= Sandra´s last post … Lost and found =-.
I do have to say that I never go anywhere without escapist reading and knitting or crocheting – I have an awesome rep for patience which is totally due to having things to keep me occupied!
.-= Anna-Liza´s last post … Mr. Pollyanna Is Playing with Fire. Again. Come Watch! =-.
forced vacations are always a good thing…especially when you have some luxuries. Like phones and computers and some cash.
My worst stranded experience was overnight at LaGuardia. Not fun trying to sleep in those metal chairs under harsh florescent lights. And not enough money or time to justify a hotel. I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.
My favourite stranding was when I got snowed-in at a beautiful recording studio in the middle of nowhere with 2 of my favourite people/musicians. Right next to an amazing restaurant/bar that was closed…but we had the keys! It was like we died and went to heaven.
.-= Christine´s last post … I love David Byrne =-.
Havi,
Poor you! You know the story of my getting to North Carolina for the workshop: Travel disasters can give you stories to tell later, people who are nice and helpful, and time for you, but when you are in the middle of it, gaaah…
I hope you are doing fine and hug, hug, and hug to you.
And thanks for a fabulous weekend!
What part of TN were you in? I can vouch for the niceness of people there (grew up there, miss the people terribly. Miss the hot not at all).
Best travel disaster? Getting stranded in WY at the tail end of our Christmas ski trip…. we skied on Christmas Day and my husband (who has a big blond beard)wore a Santa hat and all day the kids on the slopes were whispering to each other, their parents, or asking for a picture with him. Hillarious. Definitely a great end to a 2 day delay.
@Victoria Do you want a juice box?
(couldn’t resist)
I have to defend ATL as a place to get stuck – it’s easy to get around, there’s something to eat at almost any hour and, of course, I live pretty darn close… Seriously, as airports go, it’s clean, well-lit, easy to navigate and the people are usually really nice – and I love it when service-men and -women walk out of security and everyone applauds to thank them for their service.
Horror stories involving children on planes abound, so, for variety, I present this as a haiku, entitled “Alina, the entire flight back from seeing The Gates in New York”:
delayed flight, weeping
ear infection, teething, cold
way past her bedtime
First, glad it worked out. Second, sad it happened.
So I was traveling by train in India and missed my stop. How? Well there were not lights and I don’t speak Hindi. Instead of ending ip where my hostel was in AGra – so I could see the Taj Mahal – I end up as some rural stopping point at midnight witha promise that a train heading back will arrive in the morning. It is completely black in every direction. To say the least I was abit uneasy. A large group of young men come over and start trying to talk to me but I don’t know what they are saying. I sit for a bit surrounded by them trying to avoid thinking about something bad happening.
After a few minuets of this an elderly man comes out of the station and starts talking to me. Again – the lack of Hindi proves a problem. He talks to the young men who go away and come back with tea. We sit on the bench, me and the station conductor, drinking our tea and just smiling at each other. Finally he says to me what seemed like the only english he knew. “It is my duty to make you love my country.”
A while later a soldier came to wait for the train. He traslated for me as the Conductor gave me his bed and promised to wake me up for my train. Which he did.
Andrew
.-= AndrewMcGregor´s last post … The Wandering Path and the Road to Evolution – Part 3 =-.
“It is my duty to make you love my country.”
I just love this! What a wonderful attitude!
The best part was that he had already said it with his actions and his eyes.
.-= AndrewMcGregor´s last post … Interview with me on the show Synchronicity =-.