An exercise in gratefullness

I spent the last week in Washington D.C. at a conference. Sounds glamorous, but more accurately, I spent the last week in a hotel in Washington D.C. And to further qualify, I spent the first part of last week in a nice hotel, then had to check out Tuesday and bus it from a crappy hotel the rest of the week. I estimate I lost an hour and a half of sleep each day due to the commute and rigid shuttle schedule. And what's worse, it's my own damn fault for not booking my hotel sooner... Grrrr.

The crappy hotel room was a doozy. Smelled funny. Big empty space where a fridge used to be. Frayed carpet. Crappy food. And somehow, I managed to set off the smoke alarm with my morning showers. (Where there's steam, there's fire?)

The first morning on what I called "the special bus", I overheard the gentleman behind me talk to his coworker who didn't make it to the conference. He lives (lived) in Alpharetta, GA. His house was struck by lightening and his daughter, who was home alone, narrowly escaped before it burst into flames. He lost his house and 100% of its contents. This gentleman proceeded to comfort him, tell him to take care of his family, and then repeated the story over and over, one call at a time, to the rest of the team. With misty eyes, I decided my situation wasn't so bad.

I'm happy to report the show was good. I had lots to do, but it paled in comparison to what some of my coworkers were up against, and again, I was grateful.

My trip home was not filled with what you would call good fortune. I was reminded of recent trips where I was unusually lucky - flights landing early, surprise upgraded seats, baggage fees waived, empty seats next to me. This weekend's travel was the yang to those yin experiences.

All in all I estimate I spent 24 hours in The System getting from D.C. to home. My Friday flight was much later than necessary and I headed to the airport early to avoid traffic and beg my way on to an earlier flight. No luck there and I spent three hours reading and nodding off at the gate. I love to read. I needed sleep. Time could have been worse spent.

The flight was delayed due to weather in Chicago - a city to be avoided if possible when flying. When we finally boarded, they rushed the crowd hoping to get in before the storm blocked us. They made half the plane check their second bag, even if it was the right size. We boarded, we sat, we waited, we heard it would be another hour and a half before we could leave. I was grateful they let us off the plane; I ate the most delicious, butter-greased, doughy, hot from the oven sugar cookie. If only I could duplicate that magic at home.

And the break was good, because we were to spend nearly four hours on that plane (for a 1.5 hour flight) waiting for a break in the storm to land, or to get instructions to divert elsewhere. We did land at the planned airport and I'm grateful I didn't throw up as we passed through the storm, tempted as I was.

My connecting flight was long gone, so much so, that it wasn't on the boards anymore so I could learn if they escaped or were cancelled. Those of us not home yet stood in line to get rerouted. It was after midnight (my Sacramento-bound flight left at 8:30pm) and folks had complicated situations. In other words, the line moved slowly: 10-15 minutes a person with two agents. I'm eight or so in line. I don't like math so I won't finish that train of logic. But I made friends during the wait and was grateful the two guys in front of me retained their sense of humor. One pointed to the book in my hand and said I'd probably get a lot of time to read. To demonstrate either a) just how long I'd be hanging in the airports or b) just how fast I read, I pointed to my bookmark half way through the book and said I bought it in the D.C. airport. We joked about our bags not making it through and the really funny one said, "Oh, you wanted your bag too? That's extra." And I said, "I did pay extra!" and made a mental note to ask for my $25 bucks back if my luggage got lost.

At my turn at the counter, I learned all flights (all airlines) to Sac were full the next day; it wasn’t looking good. We had no access to our checked bags. She assured me this was for the best...and I said (loud enough for everyone to hear apparently) that I didn't necessarily want to spend the next three days in the same underwear, ya know what I mean? Everyone in a 15 foot radius chuckled, though I was pretty darn serious about it. I'd need more than my laptop to keep from stinking up the plane I eventually rode on. She was more optimistic about my chances the next day than I was, and I got on the waitlist for the morning and secured a seat for Sunday morning.

In the back of my mind I was depressed; I intentionally planned to leave Friday to have breakfast with my son the next day before he headed to his dad's for the weekend. I missed him terribly all week, but I'm grateful he's with family that loves him and takes good care of him. And my reunion would be that much sweeter Sunday night. *sigh*

I trekked my way out of the airport and passed the real line that looked seventy-five people long. Poor stranded folks. And I was again grateful to be leaving with a confirmed seat in hand, and no kids to drag through that patience-demanding situation. I passed several gate areas turned hostels...people sleeping best they could across the seats, and looked forward to a hotel bed, even if just for a few hours. I wondered how man of them scrimped and saved to travel and couldn't afford a hotel room.

It took a while, but I trudged myself to the Hilton. Thankfully it wasn't raining. More people sleeping in the hotel lobby, which made sense because the place was full. As were all of the airport hotels. Visions of sleeping in the terminal came to the forefront of my mushy mind. I sat and called my company's travel line, which was experiencing "high levels of call volume". My call was disconnected (Grrrrr) and I noticed one of the funny guys in the lobby also calling around to find a room. Using his GPS for a list of nearby hotels, he miraculously found one close with "plenty of room". I then called the same hotel, and they replied they were full. Say WHAT?! He called them back and demanded a firm reservation, then handed the phone to me so I could do the same, then handed the phone to the next guy to do the same. We three banded together and set out for the hotel shuttle, which we nearly missed if not for the funny guy running to wave it down. We arrived. They had rooms. I was grateful. The third guy offered to buy us breakfast in the morning for all the help, which I would have gladly accepted if I didn't have to get up in four hours. I wished everyone luck. I stumbled to my room and chose to shower to preserve my clothes as much as possible, fearing another two days in them. I laid the articles around the room to air out and slept a la naturale. Four excellent hours of sleep is better than six crappy hours of sleep and I believed the extra effort to find the hotel was worth it.

I was in denial about waking up and nearly blew off the morning flight to sleep in. This was day six of not enough sleep. Remembering the hoards of stranded people, I thought better of it and put my clothes on, again, and ran to catch the shuttle. I smiled at remembering I had slept in that shirt the previous night and very unprofessionally rolled out of bed, threw on my jeans and headed to the conference. It was my free conference staff shirt, and though I was stuck in it, I was grateful it was comfy, and it allowed a few folks in the D.C. airport to approach and tell me how great the conference was. Having worked on that show since November, I was pleased that the hard work seemed to have paid off.

As I entered the airport, I was again grateful for my arrangements being made as the line for the United counter was longer than I've ever seen any airport line in my life. I anticipated an ugly security line, but was surprised to see it so short. People were stuck elsewhere I guess. I approached my gate and my waitlist status was immediately changed to a window seat. I grabbed a bagel, boarded, stretched into the unoccupied seat next to me and did everything I could to sleep. (Yes, I was grateful for all of these things.) The landing was so soft that I opened my window wondering how close we were, only to discover we were already on the ground.

Back home in the Sac airport I experienced my last bit of drama. After an hour of waiting, it appeared my bag was not on the flight. I fought tears of exhaustion as I sought out the baggage claim counter. Another line of two families without luggage. It was my turn. I handed the guy my claim ticket and laid my head down on the counter expecting my luggage to be shipped to me that night or the next day. The clouds parted when he said, "We have it." I raised my head and blinked a few times, and he said, "Cheer up!" And I did as much as my body allowed it. I was grateful to not be one of those families who left empty handed. I walked out of the claim room and there by itself, waiting for someone to love and claim it, was my red bag. It was a tearful reunion.

More shuttles, as I returned to a different terminal than where I started and had to make my way to the car. Oh my car. How blissful to drive again. I love stepping back into my car and feeling that fresh perspective on how it looks, behaves, drives. I’ve owned the car nearly six years now and I still enjoy it.

Back home I crashed. Took a deep nap, watched two movies, ate chips n dip and canned mandarin oranges for lunch, cereal with strawberries for dinner, and finished that book. I even managed a leisurely bike ride to work out some of the kinks – the weather was beautiful.

And now??? Another nap!