Chicago! Chicago!

Chicago! Chicago! It's my kind of town! (Who sang that song?) Anyway, as you can guess, I'm back in the windy city. Today was a meeting of the alumni board. I flew in yesterday, and had such a horrible time getting to the airport, I almost was ready to just turn around and return home. I could still kick myself for the absent-minded mistake I made. All I can tell you is that my husband deserves some kind of "best saint" award for what I put him through.

First of all, we woke up around 5 am and left the house a little before 6 in order to make it to the airport. When we were almost there, I took out my ticket to double check on when my return flight arrived in Houston so that I could remind Bill of when he needed to pick me up. Bill glanced at the paper I was holding and said, "Your flight is with Southwest????"

It was one of those "Oh, no, all the blood is draining out of my body" type experiences, as I immediately realized we were headed for the WRONG airport! Houston has two airports and they are on extreme opposite sides of the city. I fly Continental so often, that my mind went into auto-pilot mode as we headed north to Bush Intercontinental. Needless to say, we should have been heading south towards Hobby Airport. All we could do was turn around. But before we did, Bill said, "This tollway makes a circle around Houston. I think if we just stay on this road it will be quicker in the long run. If we turn around now, we're going to be heading into rush hour traffic." So we stayed the course, until we saw a huge green sign that stated "TOLLWAY ENDS IN 600 FEET".

OH, GREAT!!! We now had no choice but to turn around and plunge into bumper-to-bumper traffic. To make matters worse, I called Southwest to ask them what to do. When I called, I got an recorded message telling me the number had changed and to call the new number. When I called the new number, I once again was greeted with a voice message - only this one informed me that the number I had dialed was no longer in service!

My flight was leaving at 7:40, and my sweet husband miraculously delivered me to the curb at 7:30. I flew to the desk where I was told the gate was closed. Thankfully, I was able to go standby on the next flight. All I needed was my ID. I reached for my driver's license AND IT WASN'T THERE!!! I panicked. My mind went into rewind, sorting through what I did and where I had gone in an effort to remember what I did with my ID. The bank! I went to the bank the day before, they asked for ID when I cashed my check. It must be hiding in a white bank envelope. I madly raked through me my purse (aka "The Black Hole") and eureka! I found it!

I arrived to my seat, breathless, almost in "heart attack" mode, and plunked down. And I slept the whole way here. And that's my "Getting to Chicago" story.