Call me Ulysses.
Always wanted to parody “Moby Dick” somehow, and I saw the opportunity. I make no apologies.
On Monday, I said goodbye to two of my closest friends at the port in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and watched them begin their long drive back to Maryland and Virginia. Cameron and I had a bit of a journey for us, beginning with a bus back to Boston Logan Airport and an eventual flight to Dallas, Texas. From there, I was going to stay one more night before getting onto the Tuesday flight that would have had me at home before 6PM.
Unfortunately, like Ulysses, my journey home would be rife with complications, detours, and small adventures along the way.
From Boston, we had a four-hour flight to Dallas, but that was expected and planned for. I even managed to carve out small bits of time to write along the way. There were hints made that weather was worsening south of us, but neither of us could find out via modern tech; services were starting to go down.
At one point, we couldn’t get directions for our newly assigned terminal and had to walk. I admit that I took a great personal joy in using a device I’ve carried for years: the compass my wife got me as her wedding gift.
But we did find our new terminal, and our plane did arrive. There was a struggle to find space for everyone aboard, but we settled in for the four hours in the air. On our approach to DFW, however, the captain’s voice sounded through the intercom.
“Ladies and gentlemen, there is a thunderstorm hovering over the airport, and we can’t land.”
We attempted to wait it out, circling the city for over an hour, but the storm would not relent. Faced with a growing fuel crisis, the captain explained to us that we would head to Oklahoma City for refueling and, with luck, attempt another landing.
But this storm in Dallas proved to be a monster of its own, growing and growing until it held hurricane-force winds and launched hailstones across the sky. Seven other planes had been sent to our new destination before us, and all were needing fuel. We had trouble finding space to land at the airport, and it was another hour before our tires struck the pavement.
There, we sat. Our plane waited for fuel, and we waited for news.
For six hours.
It was well after 11PM when the captain told us that we had to deplane. Cameron and I struggled with the other passengers to exit the plane, and we were left in Oklahoma City in the middle of the night. We were told that another flight would make the attempt for Dallas tomorrow afternoon. My next flight, the final leg of the journey home, was scheduled to depart twenty minutes after we would land, if we were land on time.
Instead, we scrambled over to the only car rental agency still open, and I snagged us a car for the near-four-hour drive. It was midnight when we had keys. It was 4AM when we arrived at Cameron’s home. We had, by this point, been awake for 24 hours. We traded off small shifts of driving so we could rest, but not sleep.
Once we made it to his home, I promptly fell upon the mattress set aside for me and slept for five hours.
I had to wake up no later than that, as the car was due for Return before 11:30 at the airport. I took a few minutes to go over my bags, change into fresh clothes, and say farewell to my friend, whom I’ve not seen in nearly eight years previously. It was a heartwarming and tearful farewell, and we promised to make an effort to get together again, much sooner.
Upon arriving at the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport, I was making ready to wait the five hours before my flight. I ate, I had coffee, and I checked the flight news.
My Gate was changed four times, then my flight was delayed twice. I kept my family updated, but promised everyone that I would be home ‘soon’.
Then my flight, scheduled to have me home after 11PM, was cancelled an hour before it was supposed to land. I had been listening to other travelers throughout the airport as they explained that they were stranded from multiple flight cancellations and were finding out what they could do.
I could think of only one solution: Driving through the storms that plagued the skies over me.
I had to go through three rental agencies, all without vehicles, before I found one that had an available car. At one point, someone suggested I hire a driver for the journey, but my instincts (and common sense) warned me away from a potential kidnapping. Once I had keys in hand, I started heading east, right as the evening traffic started to dwindle. The thunderstorm raged overhead and before me as I ambled onto the highway, braving the streets of Dallas and its inhabitant drivers.
I had set out from Dallas at nearly 6PM on Tuesday. It was midnight before I finally saw my mailbox and turned into the driveway of my home. My wife was on a business trip, my children staying with grandparents, all awaiting news from me.
I was too tired to call anyone. I sat down in the comfort of my own home and fell asleep.
Today, I’m getting back into my routines and readying for my part of the grievance procedures to get my job back. My family was overjoyed when I called them this morning, happy to know that I was home and safe.
The struggle to make it home was more than I had ever expected, but the trip itself was everything I had hoped for, and I did make it home close to my originally planned time. I wasn’t gone for 20 years like Ulysses, thankfully, but I can enjoy the humor in the comparison.
I’m finally home. I’m going to rest for a bit and figure out what my routine is going to be while I wait for news of my grievance procedure.
Stay safe out there, folks. Be safe on your travels.
-JB Swift
Swift's Corner 