tedwords

This episode: ABBA saved my life, tonight

Tuesday morning, I flew off to Atlanta. It wasn't a trip I was looking forward to, even though Atlanta is beautiful. However, it was just a two day visit, and most of it would be spent traveling: wake up at five on Tuesday, arrive in Phillie at ten (hi

dreamcowgirl!), then into Atlanta at noon (hi

mylifetake2!>. Then, Wednesday, fly off at two, wait in Phillie until nine, then arrive back in Rhode Island at ten thirty.

In a word: yuck.

It became even worse because of the weather.

I got my first hint that things were going to go really bad Wednesday afternoon, around five. As I was schlepping my suitcase to the next terminal, I received a call from Theo.

"Daddy," he said. "We just spent the afternoon in the cellar!"

"That's nice, sweetie," I said, then paused. "What?"

"Mom called us from work and told us there were tornadoes around here," he said. "She told Ashes and me to go into the cellar, so we brought the dog and the rabbit and ran downstairs. We stayed there for about an hour, and Ashes peed into a Halloween bag and everything!"

Hmmm. Maybe there are some things I didn't need to know.

But it was true. Corb and Josie both confirmed it. No, not about Ashes peeing in a Halloween bag, silly, but that the area around Eldredge had been under a tornado watch all afternoon. According to my friend Sarah, the area where I work was just as bad, with an hour long blackout and thunder and lightning raining on a day worse than the one when King Lear railed at the heavens from atop a mountain.

Well, I sort of figured that that sort of ungodly weather would have an effect on air traffic. I mean, it would have to, right? But even so, there was a part of me...oh, I'm sure that it's natural...a part of me that figured that somehow...somehow, impossibly...somehow, it just couldn't effect me.

So, for the next three hours I sat at the terminal, in a state of blissful ignorance. I listened, as flight after flight was cancelled or delayed because of the weather. At eight o'clock, I patiently trudged to the other end of the airport terminal, when we were told that our plane had been moved to another location.

My plane was supposed to arrive at nine. At nine, we were told it had been delayed until ten.

At ten, we were told the plane had been forced to land at Raleigh-Durham for a while.

And at eleven, I heard the five nastiest words in the human language:

"Your flight has been canceled."

What? No, no, no...this can't be happening to me! And I HAVE to be home tomorrow, too...there are too many things going on! I didn't want to go away for two days as it was, not after being on vacation for a week. Everything was backed up enough as it was, even worse because I had lost another two days...I couldn't afford to lose another half a day getting home tomorrow morning!

And then, the speakers came to life, once again: "The next flights available are at ten o'clock tomorrow night."

My heart started to sink. Tomorrow night? Okay, I said to myself, don't freak...of course, I know, I know, I could always find a flight on another airline...or see what they have on standby. But what was I going to do about the suitcase that had I checked in with the airlines?

I stood in line for about half an hour, surrounded by dozens of unhappy people headed for Providence. Finally, I was face to face with an equally unhappy-looking woman who represented US Airways.

I tried to be as nice as possible. "I know you're getting a ton of questions from Providence people," I said. "But I just have one question. What am I going to do about the suitcase on the plane?"

"Nothing you can do," she said, tersely. "It will be back in Providence at around nine. But my advice to you is to file a complaint right Baggage right now. That way they have to drive it right to your house tomorrow afternoon."

"My glasses are in the suitcase, so all I have are my contacts," I said, even though it had nothing to do with anything. "Do you know if there are any hotels around here?"

"Around the airport? Good luck getting one tonight," she said, shaking her head. "No, you'll need to rent a car and go into Philadelphia to get a room for the night."

Oh, wonderful. My sense of direction is bad enough in Eldredge, let alone a city that I'm unfamiliar with. The last thing I wanted to do was to go through the hassle of locating a hotel, getting a rental car, finding out how to get there, spending a miserable night without toothpaste, toothbrushes, or deodorant, and finally, schlepping back to the airport in the morning for a flight into Providence. And then, who was going to pick me up?

No, thank you. From my perspective, there was only one thing I could really do.

And so, at 11:30 at night, I walked into National car rental on an extremely wild and stormy night, with the intention of driving all the way home to Eldredge, Massachusetts.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked the man behind the counter. "Can you give me really simple, idiot-proof directions on how to get to Providence, Rhode Island from here. Is it just going down 95 North all the way?"

The man paused for a moment. "No, not really. 95 goes in a circle. Here's what you need to do." And I tell you, that guy just rattled off step by step directions for me. And then he wrote them down.

I was quite impressed with that, I have to tell you. This man didn't consult a map or anything. For those of us who can't keep three consecutive directions in their head at any time, and find it difficult to get through Providence without getting hopelessly lost, this is a skill that separates the gods from the mortals. And, I'll be damned, every single direction was absolutely correct. It was very impressive.

So, that's what I did. Starting at 11:30, I set off in the pouring rain and lightning back to my little New England home. Through Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and finally, into Massachusetts.

And I made it, too. Armed with only a medium cup of blueberry Dunkin Donuts coffee and a chocolate chip muffin. Oh, and there was one other thing that kept me awake during my six hour journey home.

ABBA! The car I rented came equipped with Sirius radio, which was playing ABBA 24/7 on one of there channels.

Let me tell you, for a gay man, it was like a No-Doz for the ears! They played all of my favorites...Ring Ring, Waterloo, Mamma Mia, Angel Eyes...hell, they even played Nina Pretty Ballerina (one of my personal favorites). The only thing I didn't get to hear was Kisses of Fire. You can just picture me, can't you? There I was, driving down those dark, dreary, waterlogged roads, bopping and singing at the top of my lungs.

I only started crashing at around four in the morning.

I pulled into my apartment complex at 5:30, made my way upstairs, and crawled into bed, after sending my boss a quick note, letting him know what was gone on. After three hours of sleep, I forced myself out of bed and headed off to the job.

It really wasn't that bad, although I do have to admit, I really started feeling it Thursday night, with the kids over. And that Friday morning, after eight hours of sleep, I felt more tired than the day before. It wasn't until yesterday that my internal clock started to straighten out.

Postcript: as of Saturday, Sirius has taken 24/7 ABBA off the air.

Much to the delight of my kids...