Remember that whole “unlucky traveler” theme?
It’s baaaack!
Last night I flew to Canada for a few days to see my family, mostly because I likely won’t be able to come back for several months and I wanted to spend some time with my grandmother, and I was sort of nervous about international travel because, you know…eight months pregnant. But I figured, “Eh, the flight’s straight out of Newark and what, like, a little over an hour?” And my doctor said as long as I stayed hydrated, a flight that short was no big deal.
Ah, but did it end up being short? Not so much.
First, we sat on the runway for over two hours (Hour Two pictured above) waiting on line for takeoff. At one point – after they turned off the air in the tiny, steamy cabin – I became That Panicky Girl: I freaked out a bit and insisted they let us off the plane…which, to their credit, they did. But they probably were just a little reluctant to refuse anything at all to the sweaty, beet-red pregnant lady barreling down the aisle towards them, frantically fanning herself with a Star Magazine.
And then some kind of mechanical error arose, and we were returned to the gate. And then we sat some more. And then they deplaned us, and for some reason both mechanics and paramedics came on board. And then I drank the worst smoothie on the entire planet (I mean that), we re-planed, and hung out on the runway a bit more before finally taking off in…wait for it…A LIGHTNING STORM. Like, an extremely pissed-off Zeus was hanging out about five feet to our left. Which I have to assume was safer than it looked because…otherwise they wouldn’t have flown in it, right? …Right? But still: when the heavens are opening up directly outside of your window and you just watched Final Destination last night (I know), you are not a happy camper.
So that “easy little hour-long jaunt” turned into a seven-hour disaster.
But we’re here!
And hey, it didn’t even begin to compare to this whole ordeal, so there’s a plus.
