Didn’t Make It in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

  • June 28, 2007, midnight
  • |
  • Public

Shhhhhh. I’m supposed to be in New York right now. After sitting in the airport terminal for five hours, my flight was canceled. Everyone sitting in the vicinity let out a groan. But the kicker was when the gate agent said, “….and there are no flights to LaGuardia until Friday…”

I swear to you, screams rang out. All hell seemed to break loose. The airport seemed to turn into some kind of war zone at that very moment. Cots were being brought out, people crying a moaning, tales of no vacancies at hotels and no available car rentals.

Boss and I were lucky. We didn’t even leave our city. We had beds to go home to.

Boss Party Pants and another colleague were not so lucky. They left for NY on an earlier flight and made it as far as Washington, DC last night, eventually getting into New York at 4am! Apparently, BPP was drunk when she called Boss to let her know that she was in Boston. Um…no….she didn’t even know where she’d landed! Oh boy. Sucks that I’m missing some extremely important meetings, but damn. I did not want to ride on THAT crazy train.

The Grrrrrr comes home tonight from his business trip. That is, I hope he makes it home. I already see that his flight is delayed by a couple of hours. That will give me time to pick up the luggage that Boss and I had checked. Thank goodness the bags are still in town (had to change our tickets at the airport or our stuff would be in New York without us), but I can only imagine what a cluster it’s going to be trying to sort through the thousands of bags that I’m sure are just sitting in the middle of the baggage claim area. I’m prepping for fun times.

**UPDATE** I just talked with Grrrrrrr. His flight’s been delayed a few hours, and he has been imbibing in the beer at the bar with the boys. I could tell the second we started talking. It’s gonna be a night, that’s for sure. But I love his demeanor. He’s not a big drinker. And he doesn’t get himself in trouble when he drinks (like I do). I am just wondering what kind of shape he’s gonna be in when he gets off the plane. I’m gonna have one hung-over fiancé on my hands.

I activated a new cell phone, and I’m debating on letting any of the old flames know what my new number is. I don’t know how to handle this because I’m still sort of friends with a few of my exes, but not really enough that I’d just pick up the phone to chat (and really, vice versa because Grrrrrr would have a FIT—just as I would if some girl called him). I’m thinking no. Why do I even have to ask myself this question in the first place? I guess to keep myself from doing stupid things. There. You happy, Parliament? Are you even around?

I better go. It’s time to try to pick up the bags and then peel my love off the pavement. Wish me luck.


Last updated February 15, 2026


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