Putting Others Out

I’m sitting here at Gate 63 in the lovely Kansas City International Airport, minutes before an estimated 7:18 pm departure. Boyfriend and my flight was supposed to leave at 2:33 pm, bound for Cleveland, Ohio; then later (at approximately 7:22 pm) on to Boston, Massachusetts. But those are all just minor details. We had a heads-up on the flight delays and were granted some extra time with my childhood best friend forever, M.E.K. My busy itinerary originally only allowed for an early breakfast on Sunday at Panera. Due to our flight situation, we were able to visit both her old and new home, briefly stop by her parents to exchange greetings, play were her puppies—Addy and Mogley, and watch the Kansas City Chiefs lose another depressing game to the Indianapolis Colts.

This visit to Kansas City, Kansas was an in-and-out trip–lovely, quick and very cold. To pull this trip off, to be there for M.K.B.M.’s big (wedding) day—we needed a lot of help. Boyfriend and I needed a ride to Lenexa from the airport; we landed late on Thursday at a not exactly convenient time. Then Friday, we needed a ride to Lawrence… or to borrow a car—both, again, of which would put someone out. The simple solution would have been to rent a car. But I was clearly unprepared. Friday, getting a loaner car and driving to Lawrence, we wandered around the cold, bitter cold Massachusetts Avenue. Saturday, we got ready for the wedding and anticipated the winter storm. A storm that would result in tons of cancellations for the unfazed bride and groom. On departure day—Sunday, we needed to get back to Lenexa… meet M.E.K. for breakfast… return our “rental” car… and get to the airport all before our 2:33 pm flight, with roads in OK-ish conditions. If you ask this I-don’t-know-how-to-drive-in-the-snow-girl, the roads were in poor shape.

But again, we found out early enough that our flights were delayed, and were allowed to relax a little, enjoying our final hours while simultaneously lining up a back-up plan. It is just so terrible. And I'm not dealing with adversity well. Because no part of me wants to be stuck in Cleveland. All I see are dollar signs—hotel rooms, rental cars, dining out. And though I have visited Cleveland before, navigating an unfamiliar city late at night after a long weekend. Plus, I'm so exhausted from putting others out. I was beyond worried about not only needing a ride to MCI but after waiting and waiting and waiting... the possibility of needing another pick-up later this evening, if our flights are ultimately cancelled.

So, here I am, finishing the remainder of this story on Christmas Eve. I also so badly wanted to get to Boston, I had late-night plans with my recently married college roommate, H.C.H… and the thought of missing this girl time was upsetting. And last—what I thought was the final piece of our puzzle, in terms of inconvenience—I now felt as though I was putting Boyfriend’s parents out… because we’re not scheduled to land until 12:05 am. They are much closer to Boston Logan International Airport, then my Lenexa friends are to MCI; regardless, I felt like we’re got this trip off on the wrong foot.

With false promises that our flight out of Cleveland would not be cancelled, we hopped on the 5:55 pm flight (delayed over-and-over again until we officially departed at 7:52 pm). And when we landed in Cleveland, our flight had been delayed until 11:26 pm. But by the time we got off the plane, the last leg of our journey—the flight to Boston was cancelled. I burst into tears. I couldn’t deal. It was admittedly pathetic. Boyfriend jumped into problem-solving mode. And I called my mom for sympathy. Not one of my prouder moments. There were just so many emotions—my first Christmas away from home was looming. After talking to his parents, Boyfriend had us boarding at 10:40 pm flight to Manchester, New Hampshire… minutes after landing in Cleveland. Something seemed so promising about getting that much closer to Boston, lifting my spirits a bit. His parents, with near perfect timing, were waiting for us when we landed in Manchester. I cannot express how grateful I was for them (and everything that had come together through the duration of the weekend) when we landed at midnight.

From there, we drove the 70 miles down South to Boston… and began celebrating Christmas week, luggage-less. Boyfriend called United three or four times, waiting 40 minutes each time to speak to an agent, in hopes of tracking down our bag on Monday. Then, rather randomly, was contacted around 8:30 pm with news that our missing piece was on a plane to Manchester… and would be dropped off in the middle of the night. At 5:18 am this morning, Where Is My Luggage was ringing to let us know our luggage was waiting outside the door. This was after a Monday shopping trip to Kohls, where the lines were 100-people deep, to pick us tide-us-over necessities at United's expense.

So now, my great adventure and story has ended; I wish I could say I enjoyed and relished in the ride.