The luck giveth, the luck taketh away

Three days before Christmas Eve air travel was already going to be a madhouse, so the second I heard that the morning snow would turn into a full-blown winter storm I got nervous. Snow was piling up outside the window from my cubicle and flights were quickly switching from “delayed” to “canceled.”

Work closed early at noon, but instead of going home I decided to make my way to the airport. Sometimes the necessary thing to do isn’t the smartest thing.

The roads were indeed a slick mess. Every time I got gutsy with the gas pedal, my little Honda Civic began to wobble out of control. Other compact cars were stranded all over the place. After a few miles, I learned to not go over 20 miles an hour.

Reaching the highway felt like a small victory. But the snow started getting thicker and the winds started blowing harder. Soon enough compact cars weren’t the only ones stranded — large trucks that must have had four-wheel drive were also stuck in snowy ditches — a clear sign that I shouldn’t even have made it as far as I had.

The closer I got, the riskier this dumb drive seemed. My windshield wipers were icing over and I couldn’t see. I grabbed my snowbrush and rolled down the window, and with each upward swoop of the windshield wiper I smacked the stick against it. It worked, with a few costly swerves of the car. My face stung from the frigid air blowing in the open window.

It was a miracle when I finally pulled up to the airport’s economy parking lot. If I hadn’t been lucky enough already, a large truck near the front of the lot pulled out leaving a snowless spot. I slammed the gas pedal hoping to slide in. The car got stuck.

I did the only thing I could think of: run in circles around the car and scream. Back in the car to give it another go, I backed up a bit and slammed on the gas again, launching magnificently right into the spot as if some kind of motor vehicle angles where shoving my car in from behind.

I barely caught the shuttle to the airport terminal. I probably looked like a wet, frazzled loon with my bags, but I didn’t care. I had kicked this storm in the ass, and if I didn’t need more confirmation of my crazy luck a voice come over the driver’s radio to announce that they were shutting down the shuttle service after this last run.

I ran up to the check-in desk with an excited, wide-eyed serial killer smile on my face and overconfidently announced to the clerk that I already knew my flight was cancelled and simply needed to get on the next one out.

The clerk looked at me as if I was high. The next flight was booked solid, he informed me — in fact all of them were. The next available seat wouldn’t be until Christmas Eve. He scoffed when I asked about stand-by.

When it comes to those times in life when we’re riding a wave of good luck, we shouldn’t forget it could easily run out. Trapped in a shut-down airport with a few hundred other travelers, things were about to get weird — but that’s a story for another time.