The Boston Chapters: 49...

9th June 2008

"The long flight won't be as bad as you remember it to be."

My brother's words ringing through my head as I reclined into the seat and lowered my head, still visibly dazed from the miserable 15 hour flight that I had just alighted from. The combination of the inhumanly cramp leg-room with a stupid aisle-seat-guard-dog who was mostly obstructive with his fancy macbook and whatnot watching some lame rock-band dvd, requiring a good 7 or more steps to be performed each time I wanted to pass through him was *ahem* torturous, to say the least.

Deeply questioning the tease of Fate to give me the aisle seat on a leg-room-hefty 4-hour trip to Hong Kong, only to turn the tables on the more important flight and giving me the miserable end of the stick for the much more vital 15-hour leg was more than enough to stir me from my attempted slumber.

As I opened my eyes, I fully absorbed the desolate sight before me. Clusters of the larger group of the 40-odd of us, scattered all over Chicago's O'Hare airport floor, some completely horizontal, others somewhat; but all completely miserable from the repeated news of the last leg to Boston being delayed over and over again, first from 5pm to 7pm, and then from 7pm to 9pm.

"The flight's been cancelled," someone announced in our general direction, with shock still deeply embedded in the tone of his voice. Typically, the half and non-believers went to the screen to see for themselves, like a virtual pinch to their souls.

"So what happens now?" I turned around to ask the guy next to me, half in shock, half in expectancy.

2 hours later, the answer finally reached my ears.

"Due to a thunderstorm, all flights to Boston have been cancelled. Currently, there are no other means of transport available as well, so United Airlines has is offering us a place to stay for the night, but there is only enough room for 44 of us," said the all-knowing-voice.

"So now, we need 14 volunteers to stay behind. All those who want to volunteer, raise your hands."

"Are you volunteering?" I was asked, despite my hands being obviously kept down, but thanks to my proximity to the majority of eager-beavers hungering for the coveted make-believe prize of the "best intern" or whatever.

"No, do you see my hands raised?" I snapped back.

"If you are not volunteering then stand away."

And sure enough, after 2 hours of transport hiccups and whatnot, I was finally on the bed at the Day's Inn, ready to snooze off after a 31-hour-needed shower, despite the lack of a new set of clothes to change into. Still, the ability to take a fully horizontal posture on soft ground was a rejuvenating oasis in a desert of misery.

6 hours of quality rest gave us enough optimism to re-enter the grace of the Lady Luck and beg her to smile upon us once again, or at least long enough to be able to see us through the Boston.

Yet, for every little thing She gives, She takes just as much. Through the chaos of the debacle from the day before, our group was divided into 3 separate flights to Boston. Perhaps retaining a little of my affinity with the ladies, I was showered with enough favour to be part of the first group, along with 10 others.

Up and down, in and out. 2 hours in, to my utter amazement, I was FINALLY standing on Boston soil.

As we boarded the bus, I turned to the guy behind me, cracking into a weary smile as I sighed, "Can you believe it? After 49 hours, we are FINALLY in Boston."

He broke into a weary but relieved smile as well as I finished my sentence.

Light at the End of the Long and Gloomy Tunnel