Flight 132 to Denver: CANCELLED. So I guess there’s snow in Denver, then, is what I hear, is the word on the street. Or in the air.
I was going to come home today. I promised two little boys I would come home on Sunday. I was going to close on a home tomorrow.
Weather restrictions don’t have any room for sentences that begin with, “But I was going to…”
Lots of people are angry here at the Chicago Midway airport. I don’t see much point in that, since the flight attendant behind the counter didn’t cancel the flight as a personal decision of her own volition.
I’m actually kind of thankful they’ve updated Midway since Robb and I flew through a few years ago, that time when we ran to catch our connecting flight and we were stopped by police who thought we were running from them. Back then, Midway was like an outdated skating rink with layered paint peeling off the railings.
First available flight: tomorrow night.
If you see my kids, tell them I am trying to get to them as fast as I can. And if you don’t see them, pray for their courage for one more day.
Mindy is my Chicago girl, and she’s on her way to scoop me up for a night. She is my silver lining.
I’m here for 26 additional hours. I’ll have a hot dog. Some popcorn. Maybe I’ll start reading a new book. Maybe I’ll start writing one.
Since I’m not going home.