Stranded

Let me tell you a story. It's not about a man named Brady. Today, Beth-dawg and Graham-cracker and I were taking a little trip to the Salt Lake City airport so we could go home. Tomorrow, we were going to go Christmas shopping and eat some Chipotle. Sadly, there was a snag in this story. This snag is usually referred to as "conflict" and it came in the form of a traffic accident. I'm not certain of the details of this accident, seeing as how I was not involved, but it ended up closing three or more lanes of traffic on the highway. Three is a lot, so traffic was backed up. We were already running a bit behind to begin with, but the insane amount of merging that had to happen slowed us down even more. We ended up getting off the highway earlier, taking some back roads and then taking 215 to the airport. We didn't even get off the highway until about 2:47.

Our flight was scheduled to leave at 3:05.

Needless to say (though I'll say it anyway) we didn't make the flight. And now I'm currently snuggled up in a hotel room (graciously paid for by my mom who loves me) instead of flying a few thousand miles in the air on my way to Chicago and then onto the Akron-Canton airport. Disappointing, yes, but hardly the end of the world. In fact, I'm more frustrated by the fact that this means I have to postpone reading my book (Behemoth by Scott Westerfeld, sequel to Leviathan--great steampunk YA books. I highly recommend them) because I want to have something to read on the air plane tomorrow. Alas. And Westerfeld happens to be one of those really brilliant authors who knows just how to end a chapter to make it absolutely crucial for you to keep reading.

Is it really ridiculous that I'm just as upset as postponing my book as I am about not being home when planned?

On the brightside, the hotel room has a beautiful flat screen TV and I finally have a chance to see the last ten minutes of The Blind Side, which is playing right now on HBO.

Merry Christmas.