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I finished my drink as an announcement echoed through the lounge, confirming my worst fear: icy conditions had grounded all outgoing flights. The airlines would handle accommodations, refunds, and ticket exchanges.
An appeal for cooperation concluded the announcement, barely audible over the clamor of frustrated passengers.
Merry fucking Christmas.
TWO
TRISHA
I had always promisedmyself that someday I would buy first-class tickets, and as our plane descended into Chicago, I wished that day was today.
Between the lascivious older man in the seat across the aisle who couldn’t tear his eyes from my chest all flight long, the sniffling toddler behind me who repeatedly kicked my seat, and the anxious woman with flight anxiety to my right who kept clutching my arm every time the plane was jostled in the slightest, I was beginning to believe it would’ve been preferable to drive from New York City to San Francisco. I simply prayed none of these people would follow me onto my connecting flight.
The way my life had been going for the last few months, however, I doubted I’d be that lucky.
“We’re gonna crash. We’re gonna crash.” The woman beside me started chanting as the seat belt light came on.
“We’re not going to crash,” I reassured her with the same sympathetic smile that had become my default since we boarded, though it was beginning to wane. I sympathized with her fear, but lacked the energy to continue comforting her while dealing with my own concerns.
Like the reason for my trip back to California for Christmas, even though I had just been there for Thanksgiving.
I hoped my dad wouldn’t get into a fit when I proposed the idea of him moving to Baltimore with me. He had been living with diabetes since I turned sixteen, but his recent diagnosis of glomerulonephritis had made the situation more serious. He insisted he had faith in his regular doctor. However, he ended up in the hospital before his kidney problem was discovered. Therefore, I didn’t fully trust the elderly Dr. Dyson to take care of my father’s health.
I tried to convince my dad to move to New York with me, but the cost of living there meant I couldn’t afford a bigger apartment. I doubted my father could find a job given his recent health problems, even though he wasn’t yet fifty and worked hard. Also, getting health insurance would be difficult.
So I could understand why he objected.
That was all in the past. I hadn’t told my dad yet, but months ago, I applied for a job in Baltimore, and now I’d gotten hired at Johns Hopkins. This move would allow me to get my dad to the best kidney doctor in the country, and I would not take no for an answer.
I reminded myself that I could do this. I’d earned a doctorate in education and a master’s in technology management from Columbia at twenty-three. Teaching high school students at one of NYC’s worst schools had been a choice, not a necessity.
The woman beside me now squeezed my arm to the point where I was sure I’d have bruises, but the severe turbulence as we descended into Chicago made me sympathetic to her fear, so I didn’t say anything.
As we landed safely, she finally let go of my aching arm.
My layover was for an hour, so I didn’t rush off the plane. Instead, I took my time heading for my gate, enjoying the thrum of excitement from all the Christmas travelers and the wide-eyed looks on the faces of kids who hadn’t been in an airport before.
One of my favorite things about traveling during the holidays was people-watching.
After finding my gate, I took a sip from my water bottle, sat, and leaned back, stretching my legs. Soon enough, I overheard people discussing the worsening weather, mentioning the intensifying wind from the lake and the decreasing temperature.
Having lived in New York City for almost half my life, I wasn’t worried. Instead, I smiled at the thought of the warmer, sunnier climate waiting for me on the West Coast.
Suddenly, I heard a commotion. As I was heading in that direction to see what was happening, an announcement said that they had canceled all outgoing flights. Passengers groaned and sighed with defeat throughout the terminal, their shoulders slumping.
My eyes darted from the departure board to the ticketing counter to the windows, revealing a blizzard battering the tarmac outside.
Each possibility flickered through my mind - staying overnight at a hotel while praying for a change in the weather, booking a bus ticket, calling a friend. Yeah, right. The mounting snowdrifts and howling wind could soon eliminate each option one by one.
I bit my lip, gears churning to chart an alternative course to my final destination. The storm may have diverted my original route, but I wouldn’t let it deter my journey altogether. There had to be a way.
As the blizzard raged outside, I had an absurd, yet irresistible, idea.
Swiveling on my feet, I made a beeline for the long-distance rental car counter, silently grateful for the small carry-on that spared me the hassle of retrieving checked baggage. Even so, a queue had formed at the rental desk, snaking its way through the terminal.
With a sigh, I stood behind a dark-haired woman with two teenagers and pulled out my phone. Since Dad had planned to pick me up when I landed in California and knew he’d want to know about my change in plans anyway, I sent a long message explaining everything. By the time I pocketed my phone, the trio in front of me had finished their paperwork, and I stepped up to the counter.
“I’d like to rent a car.” I gave the harried-looking woman behind the desk my best smile, knowing she was probably getting an earful from the other stranded passengers.
