Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the airport is so delightful.
And since we’ve a place to go, stop the snow, Stop the snow, STOP the snow.

The weekend began with big plans…two months ago a good friend invited me to Solstice, an annual tradition in her family. One of our other friends planned her trip back from Ghana around the much-anticipated December 19th celebration and I encouraged my boyfriend that flying to Denver for our holiday celebration on December 20th so that I could also attend Solstice, would make him a very happy man.

But then all hell broke loose. It began simply enough–it was supposed to snow. Then CNN jumped in with its coverage of the “Storm of the Century.” Then the storm progressed into weathermen and women showing their stuff in gusting winds, picking up snow with their gloved hands shouting into the microphone ‘you can see Anderson, we’ve got major snow drifts…it’s just piling and piling.’

My newly-arrived-to-New York friend from Ghana called Saturday morning to say her train to Hartford was delayed. She asked what I thought the probability of making it to Barkhamsted would be. I was encouraging. Afterall, I have 4-wheel drive–and what better way to use it then driving through snow. Then her train was delayed again. And I started getting nervous watching Boston Channel 7’s ‘Storm force’ coverage. Ten to fifteen inches of snow was anticipated. Buses, trains, flights, all up and down the Eastern Seaboard were cancelled. CNN and the ‘Storm Force’ predicted deadly travel.

We decided to cancel. Travel kick-in-the-butt #1.

I decided to make the most of it, run some errands before the snow hit Boston, and do some last minute Christmas shopping. Apparently everyone in Boston had the same idea. Parking lots were masses of caroling car horns, people flicking holiday cheer through their middle fingers, and bumper nudges of affection. No snow.

When I finally went to bed Saturday night, it still wasn’t snowing.

This morning dawned, and with it, the harsh realities of the ‘Storm of the Century.’ Snow and lots of it. Boston’s Channel 7 ‘Storm Force’ was in full coverage with reporters in every small town of Massachusetts showing just how long they could stand in howling windy snow. Car accidents were reported. Logan cancelled almost all morning flights. The yoga instructor at the gym bailed (I called ahead to confirm class was still on, cleared off my car, drove in, waited 45 min and then gave up).

But our flight was still listed on time. So we packed, and planned, and organized, and laundered ski clothes–all while winds whipped outside and snow drifts accumulated against our front door.

We were ready to go by 2:30PM (our nonstop to Denver was scheduled to leave at 5:15). We checked the flight status again–delayed 45 minutes. We went ahead and called a cab. “How long do you think it’ll be?” I cheerfully asked Metrocab. “About 40 minutes to an hour if they can make it out to you,” replied the booking agent.

Shit. We launched into a mad scramble to look up long term parking fees at Logan, look up other taxis, or find another way to the airport. In the midst of some cussing, and general anxiety, my phone rang. “Your Metrocab taxi has arrived.”

What?! That was 5 minutes!! Another mad scramble, this time in disbelief, to the window. Yes, a cab was outside parked amid the piles of snow. A third mad scramble, bags thrown, shoes slightly untied, jackets grabbed, last minute attempts to jam extra items into bag crevices.

We made it to the cab–with all of our bags–and arrived at Logan about 20 minutes later. Then our flight delay began…and we’re still sitting here.
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