oh my bags are packed..

Ireland

Day one

Woke up (a tad hungover and with an awful cold), studied, packed, took my last final. Got on an airplane, flew to Cincinnati. Upon arrival, we learn that our flight to JFK (New York), is delayed because of "air traffic control issues." This? Sucks. Our delayed flight is scheduled to arrive at JFK at 10pm. Our flight to Shannon, Ireland is scheduled to depart from JFK at 9:50pm. Fuck. There is a flight to Dublin, Ireland scheduled to depart from JFK at 10:25pm. We get on standby for this.. we relax a bit, though it will still be close to make it on time.

Upon arrival in New York, we push our way off the plane and sprint ACROSS the airport (6th largest airport in the U.S. btw..) We get to the gate as our plane is still there! Two out of breath and sweating girls are standing at the counter arguing with the airline people. uh-oh. The plane is full. The next flight is not for 24 hours. Luke talks to Delta (the airline we booked our flight through, who I will boycott for the rest of my life), and they claim it is not their fault. Even though they delayed our flight. Which caused us to miss our transfer flight. And put us on standby (along with 15 other people) to a flight that was already overbooked. They claimed it was out of their hands that JFK had air traffic control issues. But why did they book flights for us that only gave us a one-hour layover in New York City? the busiest city in America? In an airport that is notorious for delaying flights?

Day Two (like midnight)

So, after arging for 2 hours, we got no hotel vouchers, not apologies, nothing. We were tired and crabby. We decided to go get our luggage and purchase a hotel room for the night (for a million and a half dollars). At baggage claim, the annoyed and half-asleep airline gal informs us that she would go "look" for our luggage. She says it may take hours. Fine.

Five minutes later, she returns and informs us that our luggage made the flight that we did not. They were waiting for us in Shannon. Really?

It is now about midnight, and we start calling nearby hotels. Best Western? Full. Hilton? Full. Holiday Inn? Full. Super 8? Full. Sheraton? Full.

You get the picture. Apparently many people missed their flights due to JFK's stupidity and all hotels relatively near the airport were completely full. Cab fare to Newark, New Jersey? $150. Fine, we'd pay it. Start calling hotels in Newark--they are all full!

Sensing our distress, a man who I can only assume to be homeless, lets us know where the best areas to sleep in the airport are. Oh and by best, I mean small cushions are on the chairs we push together.

This whole fiasco? Is Not the worst of it. Gina, via her Blackberry, sees a news article about the volcano in Iceland. Another mini-erruption. More ash in the air. Flight cancellations expected for the next three days across Britain. And Ireland.

I do not sleep. When the shops in the airport finally open, I go to the bookstore. Through tear-filled eyes, I look up new destinations in travel books: Barcelona, Paris, the fucking Caribbean. We watch the boards. London closes. Dublin closes. We're fucked for sure. We go talk to Delta again:

"What exactly happens if our flight to Shannon gets cancelled? Do we get a refund?"

"Why would your flight get cancelled?"

"Umm.. because all of Britain has closed their airports.. and parts of Ireland.. because of the volcano......."

pause. pause. pause. blank looks. pause. "Ohhh the volcano.. of course.. Your flight isn't cancelled though."

"Rrrright.. but we are foreseeing it getting cancelled.. do we get any sort of refund?"

"But your flight isn't cancelled. If it does get cancelled, it won't be Delta's fault because it is a weather issue. You will get no refund."

We decided to leave it be. Talking to Delta is hopeless. Talking to anyone in this God-forsaken airport is hopeless. We have 12 hours to kill before our flight (which at this point may or may not be taking place..). We head to Midtown for a bit of shopping =) (poor Luke..)

I have always wanted to visit Manhattan, but honestly my ideal was not to have slept in an airport the night before and have slept-in/comfy airline clothes on and no makeup and frumpy hair. So I was a bit grumpy. Manhattan people are chic. I felt like Carrie Bradshaw in that episode of Sex and the City when she first goes to Paris and it's raining and she slips and falls in the lovely Dior. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5uqy_FMNaJ4&feature=player_embedded

Luckily, I didn't feel a strong enough embarrassment to buy out all the stores to prove my worth as Carrie did.. mainly because I am not worth much (money-wise..) So despite my self-consciousness, it was pretty amazing.

It was at this point, that our luck began to turn. By some twist of faith, Peter was going to be in New York for work this week, and he had decided to come a day early to catch the Twins game at the new Yankee Stadium. He put us on his reservation, so after shopping we train-ed and bussed our way over to his hotel (in Newark) and got to take showers! Said a quick hello to Pete after his game and made our way back to the airport.

We were still unsure of our flight, why had it not yet been cancelled? We boarded. The pilot came on the PA system: "Well we're gonna take off.. mid-flight, if Shannon gets closed, we will re-route.." The stewardess mentions that a highly possible re-route is Paris.. hmm.. maybe this won't be terrible.. I will have to buy a new wardrobe....

Day Three

Because the wind was blowing in a certain direction, and Shannon is over on the West coast (or perhaps because the Man up there decided we had had enough abuse for awhile..), we made it. We made it to Ireland.