Travel blues

On that plane I was a comin'
Down the jetway bend
I hadn't seen the sunshine since
I don't know when
I'd been stuck in Rovaniemi
And time kept draggin' on
But that plane it kept delayin'
Thought my connection was gone...
When I was in Chicago
My bag it didn't come
It made life easier
At least in them customs
But now I sit here in Bozeman
No possessions; I know why
And now my ride is a comin'
Down to West Jelly-e-i

I guess that pretty much sums everything up.  I traveled for over 27 hours, about 22 of which were on planes, just to not have skis, clothes, or much anything else, except this blog.  But I didn't have it when I arrived.

The crazy part is, things were going well until I got to Chicago.  Yeah, every plane was delayed, but they were the sort of delays you expect when traveling, the sort of delays that don't make you miss your connections.  The sort of delays that keep you from eating food while your feet are on the ground, but European airlines serve food in the air.  And I had the chocolate that I wrote about in my last BSF update, for those of you who followed those.

Then, our bags didn't show up in Chicago.  It made clearing customs easier, but we were on enough flights for the day that we were only checked through to Chicago, and we were looking to recheck our bags through to Bozeman.  Then, they declared that they overbooked the plane, and needed 20 volunteers to spend the night in Chicago.  I don't have anything against Chicago, but I really wanted to try to get all my travel over with.  So eventually they read off the names of the 20 heaviest passengers and they had to stay behind.  Or maybe they just chose names out of a hat.  Either way, the plane was ready to make weight.

Or was it?  We got on the plane and they solicited for four more volunteers to get off the plane to make weight.  Then they decided, no, we could make weight.  I fell asleep, and woke up near Salt Lake, to be informed that the Salt Lake airport was closed due to a bad storm, and we were traveling to beautiful Idaho Falls for more fuel.  Upon arrival, we were further informed that the jetway in Idaho Falls was broken, and we would be spending our visit on the plane.  Luckily, the plane was filled with generally fun people, who apparently had the sanity to realize that getting all worked up would accomplish absolutely nothing, except maybe make the lavatory smell worse than it already did, which was bad enough to almost set off the smoke alarm.

After a few hours on the ground, we flew into Salt Lake.  We arrived there an hour after our flight to Bozeman was supposed to land.  I scanned my ticket at the help desk, and lo and behold, Leif and I had been placed on a new flight scheduled to leave in...negative 15 minutes.  Apparently we ran fast enough to travel backwards in time and completely violate relativity, because Leif and I made the flight, and got into Bozeman at around midnight.  So now I'm waiting for my ride to West Yellowstone, where I can try to find something to ski in, on, and with, since last I heard, all my ski stuff was left in England.  Hopefully I get my skis before the races this weekend!

See you all in West Yellowstone.  And thanks to the Meyers for giving me a ride there.