N and I have made it back to London safe and sound–but not without the drama and craziness that seems to ensue whenever we travel nowadays.
We were due to fly from Louisville International (SDF, yes, I know my airport codes) to Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson (ATL) a little after 6pm on Friday. We got to SDF at around three pm for check-in… only to find that our flight to ATL had been cancelled along with several others.
The Delta agent was very helpful and apologetic–apparently the cancellation had just happened and he hadn’t yet been given a reason. He booked us on another flight elsewhere with a connection to London Heathrow (LHR) that left only about an hour later than we’d anticipated. He was able to sit us together on the first flight, but he wasn’t able to assign our seats for the long haul flight to London–instead he gave us “seat request” tickets which we would give to the agents at the desk at our gate and they would place us where there was room. Even so, no big deal, really.
So where did we end up?
Minneapolis. That’s where. I’ve never been there before–hell, I’ve never been further west than Bowling Green, Kentucky (unless you count changing planes at Chicago O’Hare)! The Minneapolis St. Paul airport is absolutely MASSIVE. And as seems to always be the case for N and I when we travel together, we had to run to our connecting flight. We got to the gate as they were putting passengers on the plane, so we lucked out. The Delta ladies at the desk were able to seat us together–in the front of the economy cabin which has the MOST leg room! Again, we got lucky. Originally, on our flight from ATL to LHR we weren’t able to sit together and we were both stuck in the middle seat with a stranger on either side of us… suck-city, in other words. When we got on the flight to London, I looked over at N and said, “Well, at least we’re sitting together.” I think that was the first real laugh I’d had all day.
Leaving was really hard… it never, never gets any easier. Every time I go home I think of at least 20 more reasons I want to stay home… and Bubby (my younger sister’s son) was my numero uno reason this go-around. It was difficult to tell the little guy goodbye–I mean we’d really bonded! We’d napped together, he’d peed and puked on me, we had a connection! And of course it was hell saying goodbye to the rest of my family.
I do miss my friends too. I forgot how fun it was just sitting around until 2am talking about anything and everything.
There’s just so much to say about how amazing the trip home really was.
Anyhow, here I am in London again… pressing on with everything. It’s not easy–I had trouble figuring out what was going on when I woke up this morning (er, almost afternoon) after 12 hours of sleep. I just have to find little ways of coping and dealing with being here–lighting candles that smell like home, cooking “home food”, hanging pictures of Bubby and blogging “it all out”. A friend of mine, back when I was leaving home for the first time to go off to college (only two hours away, what a wimp!), told me to think of my time away like being on a cruise. Maybe, she said, you get on the boat and it’s okay for a day or so but then you realize that the cruise actually really sucks and there’s rats on the ship and the food’s bad. But you’re on a boat in the middle of the ocean and there’s no getting off until the end. You just have to ride it out and make the best of it along the way.
So that’s what I’m doing… I’m riding this ship until it’s all said and done and until (fingers crossed) 2012 when N and I plan on moving home.
Bon Voyage, from the S.S. London.