moosh in indy.

Gilligan’s Island, supposedly and three hour tour. Our trip to Utah, supposedly a six hour tour.
It was 17 hours.
I started to freak out a little when they said we’d be delayed on the runway in Indianapolis for 45 minutes. (If any of you have flown with a two year old by your self you’ll know my feelings of anxiety.) I was prepared for six hours of entertainment, assuming an hour of that would be eating and another couple hours would consist of the moosh basking in the glow of The Backyardigans on WhoopWhoop the iPod.
We got out on the runway, the moosh and I began our book of over 600 stickers. 45 minutes turned into an hour, and hour turned into two and a half, filled with updates on the ground closure and snow that was happening in Chicago. I was promised that since no flights were landing none would be leaving and my 9:45 flight to Salt lake would be rescheduled accordingly. We took off from Indianapolis at 10:41. The flight there was pretty uneventful except for stomach churning turbulence. We landed into what looked like the middle of winter and were told it would take about ten or fifteen minutes for the plane that was at our gate to leave because it was waiting to be de-iced. Ten or fifteen minutes turned into two more hours. Waiting. In an airplane. With a two year old. She was actually doing amazingly well, she did want to know why we couldn’t get out and where the hamburgers were and why her mom looked like she was about to heave. When we finally got off we were directed to the monitors to check on our connecting flights. My flight departed at 12:45. It was 12:34. They dropped me at gate C5, I needed to be at gate C30.
Screw a duck.
I RAN, I pushed old ladies out of the way, I scared potty trained children into pooping their pants. I got to the gate just as the door closed and the woman at the computer said “THAT’S IT FOR SALT LAKE, IF YOU DIDN’T MAKE IT HEAD TO CUSTOMER CARE AT GATE C18.
Screw another duck.
Being the girl that I am and in no mood to play along I broke down into sobbing tears as I pushed the moosh the half mile back to gate C18. People stared, but what did I care? I was stuck in Chicago in the middle of a snowstorm with a two year old, only six hours of entertainment and thousands of other grumpy passengers. I began to feel better by gate C20 after offering up some prayers to my Heavenly Father, that is until I saw the line at gate C18. It wound around and went all the way back to gate C12. At least 300 people.
Screw a whole gaggle of geese and cue the waterworks.
I took my place in line, moosh in the stroller me sitting in her car seat trying to fake some kind of composure for her sake. Just when I had submitted my fate to this line and not making it out of Chicago until the next day I heard,
“Why don’t you grab your stuff and come with me to The Red Carpet Club and we’ll get your flight taken care of there.” I looked up to see a handsome older gentleman with his hand extended and a “Red Carpet Club” membership card in his hand. He looked like an angel (well he kind of was since he was an answer to my prayers). He took me through frosted sliding glass doors into a giant room trimmed with granite and marble, a snack bar and leather recliners. He put me in a line of four people to take care of my flight and he himself took my name and called United personally to see what he could find out. I didn’t know what to do, say, think, feel, anything. So I just said thank you in my heart for sending Bob to me and thank you out loud to Bob for rescuing me. His response was,
“I’d like to think someone would to the same thing for my kids.”
I got to the agent and she booked me on a flight leaving at 6:30, she apologized profusely for the long day I was about to have (it was only 1:00 by this time) and I couldn’t understand why she was apologizing, I was getting out of here, today, for sure, I was ecstatic. Bob told us we would be his guests and could hang out in the Red Carpet Club for as long as we wanted, eat as much as we could handle and rest. I felt a little out of place with my ripped jeans and diaper wearing sidekick amongst all the well dressed business travelers, but mama taught me my manners and that if I felt like I belonged, I belonged. Time went by very quickly, maybe it was all the free Twix and bags of mini pretzels. (Cody, I would have made you proud, I shoved every last free space I had full of free snacks, especially Twix, in honor of you) Bob left at 4:30 and I stayed until 6:00 and headed out to the other concourse to get onto my (now delayed) 6:50 flight.
The rest of the trip was incredibly uneventful, so boring in fact that the moosh fell asleep on the plane and there wasn’t even a snafu with my baggage following me to Salt Lake. We made it home to Grandma and Grandpa’s to see Katie the Dalmatian and Kenzie the Sheltie. I made her a little bed on the floor and she was out like a light. Not even a whisper about the binky.
Long day, yes. Six hours of entertainment stretched to 17. Had Bob not rescued me from that line I would have been on a 9:45 flight this morning.
Snaps for Bob. Thanks Bob. You rock.