Trouble on the tarmac

I delayed this post until I felt I had finally recovered from what can best be described as the most horrific airline experience I have ever encountered in my short little life. This will also be the determining factor in my decision to never fly again...or at least for several years.

The month of March kept us busy. We endured some hardship over the course of my birthday week. However, my original plan to travel to Las Vegas was still on so I tried to seem somewhat excited by the time that rolled around. The bossman and I decided to lift our spirits by driving into the city one Sunday afternoon before I left, and we visited the Lincoln Park Zoo, Navy Pier and the downtown area of Chicago. Chicago is quite possibly my favorite city out of Los Angeles, New York, Atlanta, San Antonio, and Las Vegas. We loved it! The city was beautiful and a perfect place to spend a weekend afternoon, the lake was beautiful and the weather actually warmed up to a mild 51 degrees! The next day I began my day at O'Hare with no problems and arrived in Vegas that evening for dinner. I want to warn any of you who may be embarking on your first or forty-first trip to Vegas to NOT stay at the Riviera hotel and casino. Bad choice. But, the Hilton was booked up so I alone trekked to the old Riviera for a night on a hard bed with the smell of pine-sol vapors in my nose as I fell fast asleep.
I did enjoy a full day of shopping and a great dinner at the posh eatery Fix in the Bellagio Hotel ...and no I didn't see K-Fed, Hef, or anyone of the like. (And no James either.)
Afterwards, we enjoyed a classic Vegas show at Bally's---topless showgirls in ornate Parisian-style costumes---my first, but definitely a sight to remember. Check out the Jubilee show at Bally's if you're ever in sin city.

My stay in Vegas ended with a two hour lay over at the airport due to bad weather in Chicago. I waited patiently, writing, reading....eavesdropping on random conversations. Watching the gamblers, trying to figure out if the guy in the next row over was an extra on L.A. Law in the early 90's. Finally, we board the plane, knowing we'd hit Chicago at rush hour, I just prayed the bossman wouldn't be too upset with me.
We sit on the plane for another hour and a half, not knowing why, but were told it was due to maintenance problems (as we watched an employee come on board and change light bulbs in odd places and fix armrests on several seats)...finally another flight crew arrived and relieved the one on board (we immediately knew why we had been waiting)...another 45 minutes....and take off. By this time I'd made nice with the two gents beside me and we'd decided we'd have a cold vodka tonic as soon as the bar cart made its rounds. Finally our drinks arrived (on the house, thanks Skip!) and we endured a blase, generic movie and hear our captain say "Sorry folks looks like they aren't going to let us land in Chicago after all...and we're running out of fuel"....not words you'd like to hear after you've watched "Alive". So we land in Indianapolis after circling the air for another half hour. Suddenly the plane turns into a frat party as all the passengers gather near the lavatory (where I just happen to be so lucky to be seated) and stand around to gab and bother the flight attendants. My gent friends began to unravel after several obese backsides blocked our view for more than just a few seconds. Passengers became frantic, one woman required oxygen, so we waited for paramedics....then another man came forward swearing and shouting that he wanted off the plane immediately....things were getting out of hand. We had been on the plane for over 14 hours and things were getting hairy and fat people were going postal.
Finally, the crew got a frickin' clue and told everyone to stay seated---the captain announced (and we snickered) "We're about to take off and we'll be in Chicago in about half an hour." Lies. All lies. We sat on the tarmac for another 45 minutes because the runway was so backed up in IL--the nerves began to fray and people started to scream, and several men began to cry. The gents beside me started to use the F word more frequently, and one was white collar.
The flight attendant made an emergency call to the cockpit and told them they better find a way to get us out fast because she had people starting to freak out....and it must have worked because we started to move, finally.
We arrived in Chicago at 10:30 p.m....our original scheduled arrival was 3:30 p.m. that afternoon. You can imagine the bossman. I didn't want to leave the plane, I was more scared of what he would do to me. After all we had been through, we had been on that jet for more than 16 hours. A personal record for myself, we could've flown to Maui after it was said and done.
Another 30 minutes later and I finally grabbed my bag....I made it to the bossman by 11 p.m. that night and that my friends is the really bad excuse / reason for why I've been so very slack at keeping up with my blog. I do apologize and please forgive me.

In the days that have passed, I have learned that one of my dear friends has lost her little baby, Curtis and many other distressing facts and figures that I won't discuss here that involve the family in the cave.
The only good thing that March has had to offer was a move to a better campground, with no rust and a better landing pad. The weather has warmed here in Illinois and things seem to be perking...don't hold any breath, this could change in the blink of an eye.