On the road again

Here is the misty view from our lovely hotel room in beautiful downtown…Green Bay. I guess we are slow starters. Just a week ago or so, we had some sailor friends over to dinner. While discussing our last trip, Wayne observed that we experienced our first difficulties at Shot Point, about 10 miles from Marquette. One gentleman remarked, “You must mean Whitefish Point”. No. Shot Point. As the faithful may recall, this was the first time our brand-new diesel engine stalled due to a clogged fuel filter. We seem to be leading a parallel existence, as our first impossible barrier to forward progress occurred a mere 3-hour car ride from Marquette: the vortex of Green Bay. Never mind the confusion the night before leaving regarding whether or not Wayne had a reservation, followed by the discovery we were routed two different ways: by cosmic coincidence we were both re-booked through Green Bay (I had gone to the airport ostensibly to bring him home after his flight was cancelled) and put on a van to this Cheese Capital of the Midwest. We obtained a room at the downtown Holiday Inn on a dreary and foggy night, in the anticipation of a 6:30 am flight to Minneapolis followed by a first-class flight to Fort Lauderdale. Yes, we could not be re-booked to West Palm Beach in any way, shape, or form. But hey, we thought we would just figure it out from there. Who cares when you are in Florida? We set the alarm for 4:30 am, and drifted off to a blissful vision of palm trees and crashing ocean waves. Awakening was not difficult; given the exciting day we were to have. As a last-minute thought, I turned on the cell phone and discovered we had a message. I naively thought it was my daughter calling to tell me how much she loved me. Not a chance. It was a computer from Northwest Airlines telling us our 6:30 flight had been cancelled and we were re-booked the following evening at 6pm via Detroit, arriving in Fort Lauderdale on midnight the 28th. Cold shards of fear knifed into our otherwise sleepy and warmly optimistic little head clouds and straight down into our guts. We went to the airport anyway, hoping for a miracle. Any number of entreaties, wild plans, visions of renting a car and driving to Chicago, taking Amtrak, or taking a bus to Milwaukee disappeared into the oppressive fog as we slowly believed the word and the word was this: three days of holiday traffic and miserable weather in the Midwest has left hundreds of travelers stranded in Detroit, Chicago, Minneapolis, and anywhere else we could get to from here. We were the last in a LONG line of sufferers. We were assured that our re-booking was secure, and having a confirmed reservation was about as good as gold at this point. The fog goggles were lifted from our eyes, and we finally noticed that our fellow travelers all had the classic UP “deer in the headlight” look. Wide, blankly staring eyes, red-rimmed and unbelieving were the norm among the other airport shufflers. Finally understanding the magnitude of the situation, we headed back to the lovely Holiday Inn City Centre, Green Bay. Tomorrow the Packers play the Lions in their final home game, and we will be in town to witness it. Hope Aaron Rodgers can see the end zone by then.