Airline Travel Fun

I probably deserve this for taking a vacation all by myself; having cashed in my parent points— assuming I’ve managed to acquire a positive balance due to a couple of trips by Jen to see music shows—I’ve planned this couple day trip to New York to see some pals, do some yoga, maybe hit a few clubs before heading off to Washington, DC, for a friend’s wedding, but it’s certainly started in a manner unplanned and unasked for.

The JetBlue flight from Seattle to JFK left an hour and a half late because they needed to replace a plane; next, we were diverted from NYC to Boston as a result of thunderstorms; having sat on the runway at Logan for an hour, and almost about ready to take off back to Kennedy, the storms hit Beantown; now, we’re here, being plyed with stale potato chips and the random package of nuts in the effort to keep us from rioting.

Alas, no booze is served, which I don’t understand at all. Were I in charge of the airlines, that’s the first thing I’d break out.

I’m sure I could get a lot more exercised about the delay, but what’s to be done? Sooner or later we’ll be back in the air and sooner or later, I’ll be strolling the streets of Manhattan.

Worst-case scenario: I’ll be a part of one of those horror stories about people trapped in on the runway for days on end. I’m hoping that’s not the case, though; whatever I deserve for treating myself to this little treat, I hardly think it merits 24 hours cooped up in an aluminum cage.

My hope is that I’m working out whatever bad travel karma I’ve garnered before our trip to France next month. Maybe I can imagine that every hour I sit her on the ground in Boston is another hour we can bank on happy trails in Europe.

I think I deserve that, at least.