Going Nowhere Fast

All was going splendidly yesterday as we prepared to wing our way to snowy Iowa. Dropped the car off at the off-airport parking place, took the shuttle in, checked in with Delta, "popped" through security in twenty minutes. Hubby went to get us a sandwich while I double checked our flight was departing from C30. (Disclaimer -- I travel a lot and I used to be a travel agent. Trust yet verify). No, not out of C30, but C36. Except it's not shown as departing from there either. So I check The Really Big Board. Canceled.

Quel bite. I round up hubby and the sandwich, stand in line and we hear the verdict: fog in Moline, Illinois (the closest airport to where my mum-in-law lives). The next flight to Moline is on Sunday. We'd have to come home on Monday or Christmas, if they could cram us in. We decline and decide the best thing to do is just drive. 12 hours. So hubby gets on the mobile with the sis-in-law while I call Delta using one of their nifty black phones. Report from sis-in-law: do not come up. Nasty winter storm due in Sunday with high winds. We cancel the hotel and rental car pronto.

So I tell the nice Delta lady on the phone we'd like to have a credit issued against future travel. To my shock, she refunds both tickets. Blew me away. I'll rebook this weekend and we'll go see the mum-in-law in January. Situation under control, though our dear mum is quite bummed.

I figured we'd zip down, claim our luggage and be in the hot tub faster than you can say "Kalamazoo." No way. It seems that Delta, in a zeal to get the luggage out of Atlanta has been trying to book it (not us) on other flights even though we'd canceled our reservation. This made me chuckle. Gee, aren't bags checked against passenger manifests? No Jana, no Jana luggage. Right? I always knew that was pretty amazing b.s. (except on international flights, that is.)

So we are told someone will trudge down into the bowels of Hartsfield and retrieve them. May take forty-five minutes to an hour. An hour and a half later, hubby finds someone else to talk to. This lady was brilliant. Bags are on the way to Detroit on US Air (oh, they have such a good track record with luggage, don't they?) She's baffled why they were even put on a plane.

We came home, faxed my mum-in-law the news (she's really deaf and it's the only way to communicate) and broke out a beer and some homemade chili. Then we settled in with our respective books and unwound.

My bag has been found. Supposedly it will arrive on my doorstep this morning, no doubt with many a tale to tell. The husband's is AWOL. "All my favorite shirts and my most favorite sweater!" he grumbled.

I sense a shopping trip in our future....