Travel Diary

No matter what happened, it time it would be a part of the past.

Thus was the logic and approach to the final day, where getting home on time or at all would be a question mark hanging high and ominously overhead. And since the snow had been falling wildly since Thursday afternoon, there were many unknowns ahead of me on that eventful Friday of Travel.

I had pondered maybe waking up very early and heading out for photos of Central Park, now buried in snow. Yet, I also knew that it was a slim chance that I would actually do that. It's good when you really know your own nature.

And yup, when morning came, I wasn't about to go trekking around in the 15-degree weather. Sure, I was tired, though I had actually woken up early several times due to being nervous about the voyage home--heck, I didn't even know if I would be making it home that day.

Plus, all were asleep. Who's to say if anyone would wake up to let me back in the place? And wet shoes? No thanks. No, it was better just to prepare for the trip ahead. But how was the airport? I checked the flightaware.com status...

Closed.

Hmm. I guess that might be an issue. Closed airports aren't good for flights taking off in time. Closed airports aren't really good for anything. But it was to reopen at 8:30am. I would check back then.

Still closed.

But said to open at 10:30am. That said, I had to leave at 10am and hope for the best. I mean how long could they keep it closed for? They must know that I had to get home!

Time marched on. The snow was getting fainter and by the time I left, it had stopped altogether. The others were asleep so I let them rest and exited for the last time. Once outside, I felt what 15-degree weather was like.

It actually wasn't that bad, but I hadn't out there long and the wind wasn't blowing. I recorded a small video and then started for the subway. I soon discovered that wheels don't like to roll over snow. Not the wheels on luggage at least. I would spend that part of the morning getting a good arm workout.

At the subway, I bid farewell to the cold as I would be inside for the rest of the journey. My train came and I boarded. Then I exited the car at the transfer station, which didn't have the connecting train. Well, not at that platform. I had to find the other tracks. No big deal, though time was ticking.

I found my train and rode onward to the next connecting station. Only this time, the train wasn't at the station. It sort of was as it was on the other side of the tracks, but I had to exit the station, cross the street and reenter from another location. Very odd! And it was not clear to do this. I had to...yes...it's hard to say this...I...had...to...(gasp!) ASK DIRECTIONS! Oh, just the memory of it is so emasculating. But yeah, I found the station and train and rode onward.

Again, time was ticking.

This was my last car for a long time. We stopped at so many stops and minutes ticked off the clock. I still had a fair amount of time though.

Finally, we reached Jamaica station. At this point, only one other person was left on the car. We exited and I went to the Air Rail. My metro card didn't work. I had to buy another card once again. Only $6, but still. These costs were adding up. I also missed the train because of this delay. The next one took over 20 minutes to arrive.

When it did, the crowd had built up, but I got on and headed towards the terminals. It stopped at Terminal 1 and many got off. Those of us staying (waiting for the other terminal stops) were surprised to go back the same way and end up at the prior station--with an announcement that the next stop was Jamaica subway station again! We got off and soon found out that passengers must exit at Terminal 1 to reach the inside loop. ARGH! This was not evident.

Lesson learned, but by the time the next train came, the place was packed. We squished into the train and many could not even board. Then madness ensued until we reached Terminal 1. Another wait, another cramming of bodies. And lo and behold, we eventually reached Terminal 4. I exited, ran, and entered the security line. It moved slow. I think it took 20 minutes, or 50. I lose track of time in those lines. It just seems interminable.

By the time I passed it, my flight was boarding. That meant I still had some time though. I ran from Gates 1 to 37 (with my luggage rolling along). I was sweating by the time we got there, but boarding was late. The gate crew had not even arrived at that point. When they did, we slowly boarded. I gate checked my bag to avoid the overhead baggage nightmare that now occurs on almost every flight due to airlines not even allowing for ONE free bag. It's like charging passengers for the tickets, but wanting an extra fee should you choose to bring your liver on the flight with you. Yeah, I'm pretty attached to it, so I suppose I need to pay the price

The very nice lady working the gate did allow me to get an aisle seat instead of my middle seat! Yeah! At least that problem was solved.

Finally, we boarded. It took some time for all the people to get their baggage stowed, but we were finally ready to take off. In 3..2..1...

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are sorry to announce that the baggage crews are left short-staffed today due to the snowstorm so we will be delayed one hour.”

BUT BUT BUT!

“However, those who wish to may exit the plane and return later.'

Yes, please! I took them up on that offer (about half of did). I got off and went to the Shake Shack. This time, I tried a small fries and chocolate shake. Darn tasty stuff, but the fries were average and the chocolate was not as good as the vanilla one.

Once that was done, I found a seat and waited.

And waited.

One hour turned to two, to three, to four!

Soon, Terry, Lesly and the girls arrived and we pretty much had everyone except Jeff who was at a different gate. They had Shake Shack too and we chatted until they left for their flight.

Mine finally boarded around 6pm and we left about...oh wait. There's more. Before we could board, they had to have EVERYONE go get their luggage from overhead, take it off the plane, and then they would re-board the entire group. Mind you, I don't fault the airline (DELTA) for any of this (aside from the lousy no-bags-fly-free policy) since almost everything occurring was due to the snow storm and cold. Need to blame something? Blame clouds.

But I was now doubly glad I had checked my bag (and for free mind you).

We were now leaving. Leaving at last! Leaving in 3..2..1..

Yeah, we left. Slowly, I might add. The taxiing took a while. When that was done, the engines roared and we were moving fast and forward.

And from side to side? Side to SIDE? Okay, THIS was not a feeling I was used to in take-off. I guess jets can deal with the wind and snow and such, but boy, I was highly glad when the wheels left the tarmac. That was pretty much when I decided no more winter travel in NYC. Or the northeast.

Perhaps it was slight compensation, but we had movies for free on the flight. Nice saving grace, I will say. I watched: “World's End,” a funny British flick about five guys returning to a pub crawl and finishing it 20 years after graduating; “The Butler,” a great movie though with the language edited, the power and effect of what the writer intended was diminished; and “Closed Circuit,” a British suspense movie that I didn't get to finish.

Before the first attempt at 1pm, I had picked up the menu and was going to order some food for once in my life during a flight, but the Shake Shack food lasted me and I had no problems being slightly hungry for the flight. I did ask for orange juice, but the stewardess (yeah, I still say that word) forgot my request and I didn't care enough to ask again. I had the peanuts, pretzels, and cookies though.

I slept during the first part of the flight, but after 30 minutes, I was done with that and used the movies to kill time and distract me from the awful seats.

Around 11:30pm, we landed in San Francisco. Oh, how I then wished I had paid more and flew out of Oakland, or just parked at SFO and paid the high parking fees. Anything, but another long train ride home.

Yet, the train was my ride and I got on the train. It felt slow, but not too slow. I transferred at one station to board the Pleasanton train. At least all thinking was now done. That train would take me home.

It was a good feeling when the train pulled into the final station, but not a great one--that wouldn't come for another hour, for I still had a lot of walking to do. My ride had expected me to call around 6pm. It was now 1am.

I left the BART station and saw the line of taxis waiting. I could have. I should have.

I didn't.

Heck, I needed the exercise. What, after walking around NYC for five days and all. I think I may have chosen poorly that time. The walk just took forever. I dragged my bag along and carried the weight of my heavy backpack, which was really hurting my back after a while. The outer ring of my luggage wheel broke off and for a moment, I thought I'd either be carrying my suitcase or dragging it until tore through the lining. However, the wheel still worked (love tough plastic!) In fact, the other wheel had already broken the same way long ago. Never noticed that before.

I also felt my throat getting a little sore. Uh oh. (This would soon turn into a very bad cold!)

A great while later (around 2am), I saw my house. Relief in sight! I went in and expired. It was so nice to be home. The day of traveling had been over 16 hours since leaving the flat that morning.

But I was home. And others weren't so lucky. My friends had their flight cancelled and would not return for four days--without their luggage. Jeff had to book a different airline and fly to some odd state possibly in the wrong direction. Yes, my flight had that 5-hour delay, but I was now in my comfy home at three in the morning.

And as I had anticipated the start of the day, no matter what took place, in time it would all be a part of the past.

Happily, I was able to say that the very next day.

In summary, I heart NYC.

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