At least we were able to sit together on our nine hour flight to Chicago. But the plane wasn’t as nice as our plane to Berlin. The tv screens were much smaller and the movie choices lacked variety and options. No one in my vicinity became sick so that was a plus.
We arrived at the dreaded O’Hare airport that nobody likes. Everybody has a horror story about the Chicago airport. Another line for customs and to my surprise, my suitcase made it. If it made it out of Amsterdam I figured it would make it anywhere.
We then flew to Des Moines and made it back to GK’s sister’s place at 7:30pm. We all turned in early that night.
I would have preferred to head home the next day but GK bought the tickets and thought we needed a day’s break from traveling. I disagreed. It felt like limbo. I wasn’t exactly done with my vacation, I couldn’t unpack. It was a long, awkward day.
The next day we went to Sacrament meeting in Des Moines then headed to the airport.
Our connecting time in Denver was only a half an hour so we stressed about arriving and getting to our connection in time. Everyone in our group told us to mention our short layover time to the stewardesses because they usually let people with short connections off first. GK tried it and mentioned it.
We landed at Denver ahead of schedule but then taxied for about a good solid 10-15 minutes. When the plane finally stopped the stewardess made the announcement about the short layover. The trouble with that announcement though is that almost everyone on the plane thought it was for them. It did us no good because everyone stood up.
We booked it to our next gate and luckily, that flight was delayed a bit. There ended up being a bit of a wait to board.
Once we were on the plane, GK leaned over to me and said, “I don’t think your luggage is going to make it. We weren’t there long enough.”
I replied, “If it made it out of Amsterdam, it could make it home. But I’m okay if it gets lost now. After all, we’re home.”
The flight from Denver turned out to be the roughest flight of the whole trip. So much so, the kid in front of us became sick and used his bag. Unlike the young German mother on the flight to Berlin, there was nothing discreet about him. I could see his face between the seats and noticed some traces on his dark beard. That about did me in. Then there was the smell. I turned the air above me directly on me and had to stretch up so that I could breathe in fresh air. Poor kid. He was so embarrassed.
As soon as we could get off the plane, we did so. I was proud for not getting sick and adding to the matter with my own ickiness.
We waited for our luggage. Everyone picked up their luggage and mine…was the very last one of the cart. My luggage made it all the way back home with me.
In short, I did not get sick. I did not lose my luggage. I came close to being overly sensitive but fought it back. I was the quiet one. All in all though, a pretty good success rate for what I prayed about. The following Sunday I did a gratitude fast to show my appreciation.
I am now rested and ready to go on the next trip. Where are we going?