TRIPPING A LITTLE WITHOUT MUCH DAMAGE

Any time a winter trip is planned here in the Northeast we have two huge factors conspiring to ruin us: Snow and the flu.  These two spoilers can affect both local travel and travel to other climes.  While attempting to execute a trip to see family in North Carolina, I encounter both of this bastards.

First of all, the flu is rampant at work.  I won't let anyone come near me, and I disinfect anything and anyone who comes within yards of me for an entire two weeks before my planned departure.  Then, my daughter, who is a nurse, tells me she has tested positive for the flu (the coughing one, not the puking one).  In my motherly compassion, I don't even ask her how she feels when she calls with the news.  Instead, I yell into the phone, "STAY AWAY FROM ME!" and hang up.

I park my car at a Logan Express site, wait a whopping fifteen minutes, then board the bus for the airport.  I settle in to my own row, safe and confident that no one will be joining me, spreading their germs.  All is going well until a woman across the aisle and one row up starts sneezing.  Cut that shit out right now, lady.  A few minutes later, three rows up is a cougher.  This is followed by a sneezer (perhaps also the cougher -- I can't be certain).  I hold my breath like I am passing a Long Island cemetery, desperately hoping the germs do not remain airborne for longer than I can contain my lung function.

I arrive at the airport, stop number two (thankfully), and leave the germ-infested bus and passengers far behind me.  I am early, as usual, make my way through the security line, and make my way to the gate, which is in the East Bumfuck area of Logan Airport.  This is when text #1 comes through: My plane is delayed.  As far as I know, there isn't much happening in the way of weather here on the East Coast, but the text doesn't elaborate.  

A little while later there is a second text with a second delay and a gate change.  I have to hoof it all the way back past the security checkpoint through which I came and go to the entire other end of this leg of the terminal.  This is good news because there are more places to get snacks.  I immediately buy a water and some M&M's because ... well ... because why not.  Once I settle in to the new gate area, I get a third text about a delay.  

My plane is now three hours behind.  This is good news and bad news.  The good news is that about thirty percent of the passengers on our plane make other plans at the airport, so I have two empty seats next to me.  The bad news is that I officially could drive to North Carolina in the time I have taken since leaving my house this morning to the time I am predicted to actually land there.

After everyone has boarded the plane (very quickly and efficiently, I might add), we have a fast, uneventful flight to Charlotte, where I arrive exactly when I hoped and planned not to: Rush Hour.  Not only is it Friday rush hour, but it is monsoon season.  I haven't seen this much rain in years.  My little rental car and I are both operating on high alert as we make our way into traffic and ... sit.

Considering that this is NASCAR country, I am amazed at how few people here can actually drive.  In the twenty or so miles I travel, I see four accidents, and not bumper car stuff; major spin-outs into the median strip.  People!  It's raining!  What. The. Heck.  I finally am able to get off an exit close to the hotel, avoiding accident number five.  Honestly, though, it is raining so hard that it is difficult to see.  I misjudge a lane and end up having to turn left when I want to go straight.  Not a big deal, but the regular roads in Charlotte are wider and more dangerous than the highways are, so this could be a lesson in terror and idiocy on my part.  It's all okay, though; I can enter the plaza and hotel area from the side street.

I arrive so late that I miss dinner with extended family, but my hotel is smack dab in the middle of a multitude of restaurants and shops.  I opt for something easy and a bit of a taste of home.  I head over to Whole Foods, and I buy a huge slice of freshly-made pizza, some blackberries, organic pretzels, dark chocolate peanut butter cups, and a big-ass bottle of white wine (sauvignon blanc).  

This may not sound like a success story, but it truly is.  The plane was delayed coming to Boston because it broke down.  Busted.  Dead.  They had to supply us with a new plane, and then that plane had to fly from its destination to pick us up at Logan.  Better to break down before it arrives in Boston than while we are all flying on it.  Also, I make it to Charlotte in decent time, don't get lost despite my GPS refusing to speak to me, and I have a fabulous hotel room with food to eat and wine to drink.  I'm not one of the knuckleheads spinning into the median strip and making everyone sit on the highway like we're in line for Black Friday sales, which is a bonus.

Of course, the return trip is an exercise in nerves.  There is a major snowstorm moving in to Boston.  If my plane is delayed even thirty minutes, there is a decent possibility that we will not be landing, therefore probably never leaving Charlotte (not really a bad thing).  I constantly check the weather map and the flight times.  The gate change is the first indication that luck may not be on my side, but, as I arrive at the new location, I see that the plane is already there, waiting patiently for our boarding call at 6:00 PM.

Once on board (on time), the captain assures us that Boston's weather is overcast and cloudy.  In an attempt to beat the storm, we haul ass despite some relatively rocky turbulence (kiddie roller coaster, not Superman roller coaster).  When we land, the captain announces that the weather is still overcast and cloudy.  I race to the Logan Express stop, standing outside for twenty minutes, watching the sky.  It isn't until ten minutes after boarding the bus, as we cross the Zakim Bridge exiting Boston, that the snow starts.  I make it home just as the roads are starting to get slippery.  (By the way, it snows over a foot by morning.)

I have a great weekend in Charlotte, avoid the flu, almost completely avoid the snow, and manage to mostly avoid monsoon-affected drivers along the way.  Life is good, North Carolina is fabulous, and yes, I drank all of that wine in twenty-four hours.  Success!