Saturday, March 07, 2015


It was approximately midnight Wednesday night as my dad and I were driving down the tollroad when I burst into laughter.

I should probably go back a few days.

It was Sunday morning, and I was traveling to Connecticut for work. My dad was driving me to the airport (and picking me up when I returned) so that when I returned late Wednesday night I wouldn't be driving alone.

Of course it was March, and I was heading out East, so there was the possibility that the flights would be delayed. Of course, I had my packing completed, and my list of "what to take with me," crossed off, so I double checked my flight, and I was good to roll!

About an hour and a half later I checked my flight again, and there was no delay. Nope. Flipped right to cancelled. I made a phone call. Sent some texts. Made another phone call. And another. And, hey! We're still on our way, but instead of to Midway, we're off to O'Hare. (Again, great thing my dad is driving me.) The timing was perfect. I would arrive within plenty of time to find my gate, find a snack, settle in to a leisurely hour or two of waiting, working, reading, etc.

And then the announcement came. "Delayed."
And delayed again.
And then boarding began.
And then we were delayed.
And the people who boarded were deboarded(?)
And we were delayed.
On the plane.
And then we waited for an hour on the plane (far more comfortable to be waiting on the plane- as we were told).
And then we were off.
Arriving in New York at that  moment was one of the happiest moments in my life.

Of course, when it came time for my return flight I was expecting nothing less than a ten minute delay at least. Yeah, I was wrong, or perhaps right.
An hour after our initial boarding time, we did board. And remarkably we were in the air. And then we landed.
And then we had to wait because around a hundred planes were grounded because their flights were cancelled, so we had no empty gate.
Then we were assigned a gate. But, we couldn't get to the gate, because the pilot was not at the plane, because he was in another plane, waiting to be assigned to a gate.

Obviously, we did finally get a gate. And we finally unboarded(?) the plane. And I made it to baggage claim. Nothing made me happier than seeing my dad and Papaw waiting for me there.
And then my bag was not there.
It didn't arrive earlier.
It didn't arrive with me.
Apparently it just didn't arrive.

That leads us all to the tollroad. We were heading back home, bag-less, and I could do nothing but laugh.


The irony is, I am not patient when it comes to waiting. I'm a fast decider. I want things now. I never want to wait. I want what I want. I guess you could say I want it now. But for some reason this week, waiting for the plane(s) and the weather to change and my luggage to arrive I had an odd sense of calm. Odd as in I was not throwing an internal angry fit (as I have often done). There was nothing to be done. Nothing but wait. And yet, I saw quite a few instances of folks who were not okay with waiting (as you can probably imagine). I knew that I didn't want to be one of those angry because of something I couldn't change (like the weather).  While waiting in those (many, many, many, did I say many?) moments, I made choices. Choices to laugh instead of cry. Choices to smile instead of frown. Choices.

I don't typically make these (patient, I'm cool and calm and fine with waiting choices). But maybe in a small way I am learning to be patient.

"I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  I think I can live with that.

Oh, and yes, I finally did get my luggage.

1 comment:

Robert Davis said...

I like it.