Canceled, Delayed, Rerouted

Months of waiting and excitement came to a head that Sunday morning as she arrived at the airport to meet her friends and travel companions.  She had me, neatly packed and ready to go and she brought The Brute, empty. He was getting checked as a receptacle for getting dirty clothes home so she could carry new purchases on board in yours truly. Soon everyone arrived and headed to the ticket counter where her lively little group was informed that their flight had been canceled and they would be leaving a couple of hours later for Paris and then on to Milan. Paris! Well, she and her friend hadn't been there so...it sounded exciting. Sitting around the airport for a while was made a little more tolerable by some eating, drinking, and lots of laughing. After lunch while walking back to the gate her friend ran into a young man she knew and hadn't seen in a long time, he innocently inquired as to how she was..."Great! I just had "sex on the beach!" This had been, of course the name of the drink she'd just finished. Poor man. A look of shock flitted across his face and she and her friends laughed until they cried.  Alcohol, middle aged female travelers, and a great love of fun always make an interesting combination.

It was a good thing they were all in congenial moods, (which seemed even better after those drinks). because much later in the afternoon after another cancellation (I think, after a while I got kind of confused) and a delay they flew to Atlanta arriving with scant time to make their connection. Where was I on that flight? I had been taken away from my owner and stored below. That horrid pink tag meant that even though I am the perfect size for a carry on the woman at the gate whisked me away and handed me off to some man who loaded me with some other bags my size.

Atlanta- grabbed frantically, wheels spinning, she was running (she's pretty fast; she ran out of her shoes twice), I was nearly injured when I got caught in the door of the train, more running...finally, our gate with 2 minutes to spare! Early? Since when do flights leave early? Those French! The next flight didn't leave for another two and a half hours. Fortunately I made the flight with her this time and I do have to give those Air France folks credit, champagne can ease a world of frayed nerves. Ah, those French.