Train Wreck

That's preferable to a plane crash, which apparently I avoided twice on my trip to Virginia.  From Austin to Chicago was uneventful.  On the way to Baltimore, there was an issue with icing -- something about fluid leaking -- and so we turned back, and were met with emergency vehicles on the ground.  The passengers were all re-routed to different flights via different airports, and after a few hours, I was D.C.-bound.  A half hour or so before we were scheduled to land, another emergency -- this time an overheated engine, which necessitated "finding the first piece of concrete we could land on," according to the pilot.  We landed at a tiny airfield -- not even an airport -- in West Virginia, again met with fire trucks and ambulences.

That was the easy part.

We were stuck on the plane for almost three hours -- we were in the midde of nowhere, and there were no vehicles to take us anywhere.  There was a lot of fog, and no buses were willling to travel from D.C., about 85 miles away, to get us.  Finally a fire department showed up, and transported us to a small lounge on the property.  Starving (it was 11:00 pm, and no one had eaten since lunch), we raided the vending machines and got ready for the fleet of taxis that American Airlines had supposedly contracted with to take us to the Comfort Inn a few miles away.  Two hours later, one taxi showed up. One.  I was lucky to be on the first round-trip, because I had been willing to wait outside, in the freezing weather, to be at the head of the line.  He took all 50-something of us in groups of 4-5.  The last group, I understand, got to the motel at 4:30.

My group arrived at 1:30.  We were checked in by very sweet young man who couldn't have been more than 18 or 19, and was clearly anxious at the prospect of handling such a large group.  Some were complaining, some were making a party of it.  He said "I'm just glad you're all safe."  At which point I almost burst into tears.  Yeah -- it WAS good to be safe.  We could have been blown to bits upon impact with the ground, or been consumed by a fire before plummeting earthward.  I''m embarrassed to admit that, once on the ground, I gave barely a thought to that, focusing only on my own discomfort and inconvenience, and feeling very, very sorry for myself.  Thank you for that reminder, friend.  I went to my warm room, fell asleep immediately in my very comfortable bed, and arose the next morning to surprisingly good coffee and a more than adequate "continental breakfast."

I completed my business, but missed the opportunity to see my brother and his family.  As much as I'm trying to focus on the gratitude aspect of this whole thing, that one still smarts.

The experience only affirmed my resolve, going into this project, to never take my one day off just because I didn't feel like walking that day, because there are going to be days, like Tuesday, when there is no way I can do my five.  I had an hours-long layover in Dallas/Fort Worth, and toyed with the idea of walking the airport for 90 minutes, but I was traveling alone and had no one to watch my luggage.  So Tuesday it is for this week.

Man, I eat crap when I travel, even under the best of circumstances.  I always come home feeling sluggish and constipated.  Nothing that a five-mile walk couldn't cure; the problem is, where might I be when the cure comes?  Not to put too fine a point on it. 

I'm taking the morning off and am REALLY looking forward to walking Banks tonight.  There is nothing like sitting for hours in a cramped and stale airplane to make you appreciate fresh air and the ability to stride hard and swing your arms.  It's good to be back.