Jolly old...thunderstorms

I've resigned myself to the fact that interesting things happen when I travel, no matter how well prepared I may be.  Some things are just beyond my control.  

Saturday morning I left Boiestown bright and early, bound for Halifax and points further east.  Mary Ellen and George were kind enough to give me a ride (and stop at various places looking for stickers and Triscuits) but we left much earlier than needed.  Consequently, I arrived at Halifax Stanfield International seven hours before my flight departed.  

Luckily, I'm easily entertained.  I had my laptop, iPod, book(s), paper, and my guitar. Or did I?  After Friday's champagne and cider celebrations, I hadn't managed much sleep before the trip began.  As I dozed off on a bench beside the door, it occured to me that sleep might be a good idea.

Because I had arrived so early, the airline desk wasn't even opened.  That meant I had to haul my baggage around with me until I could check in.  A guitar case, a suitcase on wheels, and a small backpack are easily managed, right?

Wrong, apparently.  One, my guitar case is a giant, bulletproof, custom made contraption that weighs about seventy pounds.  Two, I had consumed a beer in the airport pub, so my exhausted mind wasn't functioning properly.  Combined with boredom, I was bound to lose something somewhere.

You know that annoying message they play every five minutes in the airport that says, "Unattended baggage will be confiscated by security" (in England they add "and destroyed" to the mix)? Well, that was me.  I comandeered a cart for my guitar case, wandered off down the airport, and left my suitcase sitting by the bench.  

Twenty minutes later or so, I realized I didn't have my suitcase.  Crap.  Actually, that wasn't the word I said, but this is a PG post.  I hurried back down the hall as best I could with my giant guitar case, to find a security guard standing next to my bag, talking on the radio.

One bullet dodged for the day.  At that point, the desk opened and I was able to check my bags.  I cleared security and sat for the remaining three hour wait.  

We had driven through pockets of rain on the trip to Halifax, so I wasn't surprised when a shower blew in. The airport has lovely windows with a view of the tarmac.  I was suprised when a few rumbles of thunder came in.  Then big, jagged flashes of lightning.  A sudden cloudburst, a siren roars, and all the ground crew outside just abandon everything and run inside.  Literally. There were vehicles parked hapazardly everywhere.

A voice came on the intercom, explaining the airport had entered a "red alert" stage due to severe weather.  Everything was shut down. No flights in or out.  No problem, I think.  I wander to the deli, order a sandwich.  Still three hours to go before my flight, and severe weather usually blows itself out quite quickly.  

I had only taken a few bites of my sandwich when the power went out.  Yep, the whole airport.  It took several minutes to restore, as well.  Much grumbling going on.  By the time the storm passed and flights resumed, 
my flight was supposed to be boarding. 

We ended up being only an hour late out of Halifax, and I had the seat to myself.   
The original plan had been to sleep through the flight, but that wasn't an option, given my 
excitement and the turbulence. 

Instead, I watched two mediocre movies, listened to music, and wondered what the heck I was doing. The usual fare.

Touchdown, arrival, safe and sound.  I've managed to eat one meal (fairly good for over 24 hours in England) and sleep through most of today.  I'm off now to meet a friend somewhere downtown and enjoy the sunshine.

Guess where I'm going on Thursday? Stay tuned to find out...