I am hereby refusing to use the airport ever again.

Whew. What a whirlwind these past few weeks have been. I had a very nice Christmas, but the days before and after it were quite the adventure. Let's get started from the beginning, shall we? My worst ever travel experience started on the 23rd, two days before Christmas.

I left on Sunday because I had had to pick up exams to grade from the testing center. Since they only give you the tests a day after the test ends, and the last day of finals was Friday, it was a special occasion that the testing center was open on Saturday for two hours. At any rate, I got the exams, and I left the next day. My shuttle to the airport was supposed to come between 6:30 and 7 am, so I was up bright and early to wait outside. It came about 7:15, and then had to make another stop before we left. The driver couldn't find the next person's apartment, though, and we ended up not leaving Provo until about 7:45. I got to the airport, through security, and at the gate. I got on the plane, took off, and then the fun started. We were almost to Minneapolis when the pilot announced that the airport was delayed and we'd be circling for a while. Half an hour later, we landed into almost white-out conditions. I got off the plane to find that my next flight had been cancelled, and I'd been re-booked onto the 10:30 pm flight. Well, after some phone calls and my dad's amazing computer skills, I was re-booked onto an earlier flight. Plane after plane continued to get cancelled, and finally, the weather started to lighten just a little bit. But, 7:30 pm comes around (my re-booked flying time), and they announce that the flight was cancelled because they couldn't find a pilot. They rebooked me for 7:30 pm the next day, the first plane available. At this point, all the shuttles down to my parents' town were full, the roads were still bad and everyone was trying to get down there. But, being the sissy I am, I called my parents and they left to come and get me. In the mean time, while I was waiting, the airport announced about 11 pm that the 10:30 pm flight hadn't even left Grand Rapids, Michigan, yet, and they were projecting it to arrive about 1 am so they could leave about 1:30 or 2 am for the final destination. It was about midnight when my parents called to say they were there, so I got a ride back home. I had to pick up my suitcases at the town's airport the next day (along with what seemed like a billion people, which was in actuality only about 15 or 20 while I was there).

Coming back to Provo two weeks later was also somewhat of an adventure. My first flight, at the regional airport, got cancelled due to fog. They had a bus going up to Minneapolis that was leaving about 11 or 11:15, but that would have been put me there without much time to catch the next flight. My mom was kind enough to drive me up to the Minneapolis airport, but I got there to find that the airline people had not only cancelled my first flight, they had re-booked me on a flight to Salt Lake that left about 9 pm. The check-in person put me on standby for my original flight, and said I'd probably make it. So, I went through security and up to the gate, and started waiting. At 2, the original flight time, the plane got delayed for an hour. At 3, it got delayed again. At 4 pm, they started asking for volunteers to give up their seats for vouchers because the plane was overweight and oversold. Out of those seven volunteers, they gave vouchers to five. Finally, at about 4:40, I asked the desk person if there were any flights earlier than 9 that I could get on. After realizing that I had orignally been on the flight that had just left, she offered to put me on stand-by for the next flight, leaving at 5:25. Then, miraculously, she was able to book me a seat.

It was now 4:45 and boarding started at 4:55, so with boarding pass in hand, I ran to the new gate. I was able to get on this flight okay, although it was completely full. I think I got the last seat. :-) Then, we waited for about twenty minutes to find out our number for the runway, and then we waited to actually take off. The flight was a little bumpy, and rather uncomfortable because I kept getting bumped by the stupid drink cart, but I was in the air. We finally arrived in Salt Lake, and I was able to get my luggage okay. I'm actually surprised that it made it on the flight, but I guess the delay in Minneapolis worked out to my benefit. Anyway, luggage in hand, I went over to the shuttle service to check in. Once there, I found they had no record of my reservation, and when I went to look up my confirmation number and receipt on my computer, my computer died. They had neither my new or old cell phone number, but after I insisted I had come two weeks earlier they finally found my reservation. My name finally got called to go at about 9:30 pm, and I got to ride in a squished van with 9 other shuttle passengers down to Provo. Anyway, I got home about 11, ate something (I hadn't had the time or opportunity earlier in the day), and crashed. However, I am firm that the next time I have to travel, I'm going to drive. Grr. I hate airports.