Prologue: This is a story about a short lived strike, a snowstorm, a cancellation, a ten hour wait, an airport picnic, a secret birthday and how I ultimately ended up in Tokyo, Japan.
Point 1: The British Airways' almost-strike was as short lived and it was stressful. The anxiety of rerouting my holiday pilgrimage home was unbearable if not completely hopeless. One million people were in the same boat as I and it seemed like they all beat me to the punch. Few options were available and nothing was affordable. I spent days whining about it with fellow BA dumpees before the strike was revoked and all returned to normal.
Point 2: The day before my departure, news of heavy snow reached over into my schedule and called for creative and preemptive planning. To beat the foul weather, I immediately booked a hotel on the toes of the airport and bid my Italian home a premature, if not down-right hasty, farewell. It was me against the weather and in the end, the weather slapped me in the face and laughed. Hysterically.
Point 3: At six in the morning, as I waited at the check-in desk, we were told that the flight was cancelled due to snow. In fact, it was announced that the entire international airport would be at a standstill until just after 1pm. It was at this point that I went to stock up on rations as I anticipated a widespread form of cabin fever.
Point 4: I purchased a bottle of water and two identical sandwiches - the second to be saved for emergency bartering and leverage. Of course, before I had a chance to wheel and deal with my ham and cheese, I nearly ran over a girl from my flight who was fortified between her luggage. As all great ideas go, I spontaneously parked my cart and sat down next to her exclaiming that I had food for us both and insisting that we have a picnic. We spent the next six hours together, avoiding the topic of how we had just missed our connecting flights and therefore left with no idea on how we would reach our prospective families.
Point 5: I inherently knew that I wouldn't make it home in time to celebrate the dwindling hours of my birthday. So, while my new friend was in the middle of a knit one/purl two, I shared the unacknowledged fact that I was turning one year older. She asked if the airport sold cake and then wished me the only happy birthday I was able to receive. I saved the sound of it in my head, in a place I could recall, as it was the only moment I had to remind me of the 24th anniversary of my birth.
Point 6: I was eventually told to rebook my ticket at the British Airways ticket counter and though the line took hours, I managed to get rerouted for the soonest possible flight. Now, instead of the original London to LA plan, I would be heading in the opposite direction: Japan. I received my new tickets to Tokyo with accompanying instructions to run - the flight was already boarding and I still had to pass through security. I've always wanted to dash though airport terminals the way they did in the beginning of Home Alone, but it's not nearly as exciting as it appears on screen. I managed to shed half my clothing mid-flight while simultaneously knocking down foreigners. I got to the boarding gate just in time to do the travelers equivalent of the "walk of shame." My fellow passengers glared me down as I made my way along the empty aisles, obviously the last to board and the reason for the hold back. I took my seat and thanked my lucky stars that I was finally getting the first foot out of Europe regardless of how long it took and how much longer it would take.
Epilogue*: I have a longer than ever layover in Japan which I am making the most of. Being back in Asia is invigorating and I know there's a permanent spot for it in my heart. I'm drinking tea and eating rice and my body has never been happier, though my wallet can't stop scorning the Yen exchange rate. While I live off the rest of my hours abroad, I bid you all farewell and a promise to see you in the morning.
*I'm currently back in Hawaii, though both my suitcases are lost somewhere. Go. Figure.
