Rocking chairs are not new to Logan, but tonight—the first time I’ve actually snagged one while waiting for a flight—I realize their true meaning: rocking away your frustration at waiting for a flight that threatens half hour by half hour never to come.

Rocking chair in Logan, sans rocker

Rocking chair in Logan, sans rocker

My colleagues at work this afternoon were nervous that I was going to miss my flight. At 5:15 I was still sitting at my desk, pretty calmly addressing some last minute needs (despite the fact that my bag was still sitting unpacked on my living room floor a few miles away). “Shouldn’t you leave now?” a few of them asked when I told them that my flight was scheduled to depart Logan at 7:30—“scheduled” being the key word. “Are you heading straight to the airport?” another asked. “No,” I replied, I still had to head home to finish packing. I received a rather shocked look in response.

But I had no fear that on a rainy, Friday night, after receiving updates that my mom’s flight from California to JFK was delayed a few hours, that my tiny Embraer flight from Logan to JFK on American would almost definitely be delayed.

As soon as I left the office (a very generous colleague offered to drive me home to avoid the delay of the bus), I received my two hour pre-flight call from American letting me know that my flight was “scheduled” to take off at 7:30. Surprised, I had a brief moment of panic—maybe I wouldn’t make it. As I hung up, I turned to my colleague to express a brief moment of concern. Then my phone buzzed again. American Airlines. They were sorry to report that my flight was now “scheduled” for departure at 8. I hung up and returned to my conversation. A few minutes later, a third call. American’s electronic voice recording was again sorry to report that my flight was now “scheduled” for 8:30.

Thank god.

Now I could actually pack. And find my international charger. And figure out international calling for my phone. And set my out of office messages. And attempt to pick up my bag with my right hand, left hand, and back and forth to guess if it was actually under 40 pounds (ok, yes I could have put in on a scale, but it wouldn’t have been as fun).

I relaxed at home. Guacamole was made. Final travel needs addressed. Then a leisurely trip down the rain soaked Pike to Logan. Bags checked (weighed in at 43 pounds!), security breeched and then passed. And then waiting. And rocking. And waiting. And listening to announcements saying the flight is again delayed. And waiting. And rocking. And relaxing because I’m on vacation. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.

PS- Once I arrived at JFK, we taxi-ed around the tarmac for about 35 minutes–or more than half the time it took to fly to New York in the first place. At one point we pulled up to a gate, then suddenly did a 180. Apparently it was the wrong gate…overall, fun times 🙂

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