X-treme Airports

My first trip to the airport was Friday afternoon. I parked in the economy lot, shuttled in to Logan, and was told that there were no more flights to Omaha--at least, not via Chicago. And apparently all flights to Omaha routed through other cities were booked (I know; the woman at the counter seemed as shocked as I was). I offered to come back early the next morning. 6am-early.

This was too early for the T, so I drove again. But was first re-routed through every imaginable part of Boston. The FiDi, Quincy Market, Ben's old apartment, the loft, the location of the DecCel--yup, I drove by it all at 4:30 in the morning. In the end, I was late enough that I would have missed my flight--but they just moved me to one an hour later. Crisis averted. Except for that they confiscated my Swiss Army knife (I didn't even know I HAD a Swiss Army knife). I inquired as to where they were sent--to the deserving poor, perhaps? Turns out they're melted into car doors.

On the way back, a number of delays and such happened, the most notable being that I SAT ON THE RUNWAY at O'Hare for FOUR HOURS. It was actually quite nice, though. Sunlight, a window seat, and I finished Les Miserables. An excellent read--the only drawback is constantly having the damn songs in your head.