July 27, 2017

July 27, 2017

Aimee is ready to go home, so we take the hotel shuttle to nearby Reagan Airport for the flight home via Phoenix. Secretly I am ready to go home too. I need a real vacation and I have lots of post trip work to clear out. Almost as soon as we board the flight, my stomach starts to rumble. For the rest of the flight I am counting down the 4.5 hours keeping one eye on the airsickness bag. When we land Aimee tells me she was also nauseous, making us think our meal last night was the culprit. Of course I also packed away our First Aid kit with the Pepto Bismol.

Fortunately, our next flight to Tucson is only 22 minutes. I think I can survive. We board the plane and just before it pulls back from the gate, the lights go out. So we sit inside a boiling metal tube in the brutal summer sun of Phoenix for an hour. Fearing somebody (me) might pass out, after an hour, they let us deplane. Less than an hour later, we reboard and make an uneventful flight to Tucson. Uneventful if you are a roast. The hot plane never cools one degree. As I leave the plane it seems all the A/C was channeled to First Class.

All the while our flight is delayed two hours, our very understanding neighbors have been waiting patiently in arrivals to ferry us home. They don't look as mad as I would be.