Day One: The Waiting is the Hardest Part
I got to the airport well before my flight was set to leave and whiled the time away reading an e-book on my PDA.
Saw a short white skirt that served as a perfect contrast to a perfect pair of tanned legs. My interest piqued, my eyes moved up over a well-shaped hips and a lovely pair of breasts, then the horrible surprise that was the pretty, but far too young face.
Dammit, I hate that.
Got on the plane, sitting next to a grungy but pretty young (late teens, early twenties) girl who was apparently on her way back from three weeks in Europe, per her phone conversation.
Continued sitting.
And sitting.
And sitting.
The captain said over the PA that we were delayed by weather, but should be on our way in about twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes came and went.
An hour and a half came and went.
Eventually the captain spoke again and said that even if we took off at right that second the plane would have been in service too long for one day, so the flight was cancelled.
Before we could deplane we were informed that the plane right next to us was also heading to Minneapolis, and there were 50 seats open. Fortunately, there were only 49 of us.
We got off the plane, walked across the tarmac, and boarded the other plane.
Which was also delayed.
Long story short, I missed my connection and am spending the night in Minneapolis, with a flight out tomorrow at 11:10.
So close, but so far.
At least the motel has free wireless Internet access.
Lots more happened, but I need to crash now.
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