The Flight to Milan

Everything was going smoothly, we were on the runway ready to take off, the weather was ideal.  The captain's voice comes on the PA system and calmly says:  "I guess you all noticed that the left engine has shut down".  No, I hadn't noticed.  "Even though the weather is fine here and in Atlanta, a strong line of thunderstorms in Alabama is causing all air traffic to be routed around it and we have been placed on the bottom of the list for landing in Atlanta. We are now going to taxi to a remote corner of the Jacksonville tarmac and wait for our turn."  Captain, you must be joking.  

A half hour later, we are given permission to take off; however, now a giant clock is ticking in my head. The flight attendant cheerfully announces that we may check the Delta Airlines app using the on board WI FI for free to check our connecting flight status.  The app tells me that the flight to Milan has been delayed indefinitely and offered several alternatives in economy class involving two stops and getting us into Milan on Monday rather than Sunday morning.  Now I have visions of a disastrous chain reaction resulting in a complete meltdown of our carefully planned trip.  As usual, our landing gate was at the complete opposite end of the Airport.  Speed walking in a crazed state of mind to the nearest Sky Club for help, every person in front of us seemed to be moving in slow motion.  I spotted the Sky Club sign at the opposite end of a long moving walkway.  Eugenia had set down her bag in front of her and was gazing around chatting.  Unfortunately her bag came to an abrupt stop at the end of the walkway and a millisecond later ........ another link in the chain reaction.  A gasp went up from the people standing in line for Chick fil a sandwiches as she almost completed an Olympic worthy cartwheel in mid air.  Not bad for a woman who had broken five ribs hardly a month ago.  I ran over and got her to her feet, unwedged the bag from the walkway, and ..........she was alright after a thorough dusting.  The people at Chick fil a seemed disappointed. 

The attendant behind the Sky Club desk, an attractive black woman, studied the computer screen, looked at me quizzically, scrawled something unreadable on both boarding passes and said:  "Your flight is fine sir.  It's at the gate.  Boarding is in forty minutes."