This day will live in infamy.

The vacation started out so well. Mindy’s roommate arrived right on time to take us to the airport. The sun was igniting the sky with a beautiful tangerine sunrise, and we were going on vacation. VACATION!

Our flight was on time. We were in the A boarding group on Southwest. Mindy had a window seat. Life was good.

But, dear readers, when things go bad, they go bad FAST! We were in the air, blissfully headed to Chicago. Mindy and I were perusing SkyMall and I was picking out all your Christmas gifts. Sometimes, we’d look out the window and marvel at the clouds and sky, which looked like sheets of ice afloat in a vast ocean. Our vacation had begun and you couldn’t have two happier people. Then, there was this loud boom.We were somewhere over the Kentucky/Tennessee border.

“Was that turbulence?” Mindy asked me.

“That didn’t sound like turbulence,” I whispered.

It wasn’t turbulence. The pilot came on the loudspeaker to announce that we had “blown the #2 engine.” Comforting words, huh? Actually, Mindy and I took those in stride and believed him when he said we could fly safely on one engine. But we had to turn back to Nashville and didn’t know what would happen with our trip. The fire department met our plane on the ground, checked it out, and then we proceeded to the gate. Upon landing, the people on the plane burst into spontaneous applause, to which the flight attendant responded “Ye of little faith!”

Back in the terminal, it was mass confusion. They handed back our boarding passes. They switched people’s flights. And they called in a new plane from Dallas to take us to Chicago Midway, then we would board another flight to Providence, RI. We were now getting there at 4:40 p.m., about four hours later than expected.

Getting on that flight was terrible. We’d been placed in the back of the B boarding group, meaning we wouldn’t get to sit together and it was a full flight. I was hungry, tired, and hot. And mad at some business men who had said I had too much stuff to get on the plane. I had gotten some chicken strips to eat on the plane and due to all the mess of getting in line and letting some TSA people test my bottle of Coke Zero, I had dropped them twice. A stupid container of barbecue sauce that I didn’t even want had opened up, coating some of the chicken strips and leaking out of the bag. I wasn’t happy, because I’m not a big fan of barbecue sauce unless it’s actually being used for barbecue.

Once on the plane, we had to find spots for our carry-ons. I had advised Mindy to take the first available ones. So we did. And for some reason, with all the stuff I was carrying, getting mine in the overhead became a DRAMATIC event in which I think I almost hit someone on the head and sent my food spiraling to the floor a third time. Once the bag was in the overhead, I was tired, hot, and pretty much hating travel and/or Southwest. And then, I couldn’t find a seat.

It boils down to this: I wasn’t concerned when our plane lost an engine. I wasn’t upset when we didn’t know when we were going to leave Nashville. I wasn’t upset when we got stuck in the B boarding class. But I was at my breaking point when my bag hit the floor, I couldn’t find a seat, a dude charged in front of me to take an open seat, and my chicken strips were covered in barbecue sauce.

(Mindy wants me to tell you that her seat partners on this flight were: 1. a cute guy who wouldn’t talk and 2. a guy who might have mental issues. There was twitching and weird breathing involved.  I was seated between old guy who never said a word and weird guy who kept reading a weird science fiction book and closed the window so I couldn’t see a thing. This trip was also marked by Mindy forgetting everything: her boarding pass at the Starbucks in Nashvegas airport, her carry-on at the place we got food in Chicago Midway, and her crossword puzzle book in the pocket of the plane from Nashville to Chicago. All were recovered, except for the crossword puzzle, which we are mourning with much sadness. And that also meant that Mindy had nothing to do on the second flight. .  .while I read a book about midwives that used words like “placenta” and “zygote” between the two men who wouldn’t talk or look at me.)

Remarkably, I got control of myself during the flight to RI. And by the time we landed, I was excited again. We got in the car and started our journey toward our inn in NH.

And guys, that took awhile. A LONG WHILE. We made it past Boston and into New Hampshire in record time. But then, we discovered that New Hampshire doesn’t mark its exits by the mile. They’re just numbered and the miles between each one can vary. So our exit, 41, wasn’t 41 miles into the state; it was about 140 miles. It just kept going and the elevation kept climbing. And then, we got off at the exit for the inn, ecstatic we were there and tired. And promptly got lost. Mindy spent like 30 minutes on the phone with the girl at the inn, who I’m convinced thinks we’re idiots. But then we got here, snuggled in for the night, and went to sleep.

And woke up to a beautiful pink sunrise.

It was great to actually see where we were, walk out to see the mountains, play in the fallen leaves, and let our noses turn pink in the chilly weather. Good morning, good coffee, good company, real maple syrup.

Who knows what today will hold? I’m ready to find out. Off to make myself presentable. Because Mindy took some ugly pictures of me outside with glasses and a bedhead ponytail. You will probably not be seeing those, because I am so vain.

Have happy days!