Greg and I were in New England this weekend. It was kind of our Christmas present to each other....a long weekend in Maine, where we would sleep in, eat lots of fresh seafood, and maybe even get most of our Christmas shopping done. The airfare was only $10 (thanks, frequent flyer miles!), so the whole thing was doable for us, despite our newfound adherance to a strict household budget. (Budgets blow.)
We had a great time in Maine, and Sunday, our departure day, came much too quickly. For several days I had "known" that our flight left Boston at around 2:30 p.m. I used that time to extrapolate what time our neighbor Ann should be ready to pick us up at the airport at home and what time we should leave Maine to arrive at the airport in Boston. "We should double check our departure time on that printout from the airline," Greg said on Saturday night, in between bites of steamed lobster. And we did check it....on Sunday morning, after lingering over breakfast for over an hour and spending at least that much time in line at the L.L.Bean flagship store in Freeport.
So we were on the Maine turnpike in our rented orange Dodge monstrosity when I finally got around to checking our actual departure time. To our collective dismay, I realized I had originally read the time wrong and never looked at it again until that moment, and we were scheduled to be taking off in a little more than an hour. We were still 100 miles away from Boston at that time, so our only option was to pray that the flight was somehow delayed (after all, our flight out there had been).
You would think that two people who made it on their last flight (6 months earlier) out of Boston with less than a minute to spare would have been a little more careful the second time around. Alas, that would not be a very "maass" way of handling things, now, would it?
I have to admit that I was impressed with how fast that cheap orange car could go, and how fast Greg let it fly. We made a quick stop for gas, returned the car, and made it in the airport just in the nick of time to see our flight disappear off the monitor. We were suddenly faced with the prospect that our "cheap" little trip out east could end up costing us quite a bit more than we would ever consider paying under normal circumstances. Thankfully, the NWA agent couldn't have been nicer to us (much, MUCH nicer than the lady six months ago was), and he booked us on a flight to Detroit, and from Detroit to Minneapolis on an 11pm flight. We ended up standing by for earlier flights out and finally made it onto an 8:50 flight to Minneapolis on our fourth try. We didn't have to spend the night anywhere or spend any more money to get home, so we were actually pretty lucky, if you can consider spending almost your entire Sunday sitting around airports and on cramped jets lucky. The cab ride home was a little dicey, but we finally made it and were greeted enthusiastically by the Osk. And hopefully we learned a lesson from this all....but I guess time will tell on that one....so goes the latest installment of the Maass Family Travel Journal....
We had a great time in Maine, and Sunday, our departure day, came much too quickly. For several days I had "known" that our flight left Boston at around 2:30 p.m. I used that time to extrapolate what time our neighbor Ann should be ready to pick us up at the airport at home and what time we should leave Maine to arrive at the airport in Boston. "We should double check our departure time on that printout from the airline," Greg said on Saturday night, in between bites of steamed lobster. And we did check it....on Sunday morning, after lingering over breakfast for over an hour and spending at least that much time in line at the L.L.Bean flagship store in Freeport.
So we were on the Maine turnpike in our rented orange Dodge monstrosity when I finally got around to checking our actual departure time. To our collective dismay, I realized I had originally read the time wrong and never looked at it again until that moment, and we were scheduled to be taking off in a little more than an hour. We were still 100 miles away from Boston at that time, so our only option was to pray that the flight was somehow delayed (after all, our flight out there had been).
You would think that two people who made it on their last flight (6 months earlier) out of Boston with less than a minute to spare would have been a little more careful the second time around. Alas, that would not be a very "maass" way of handling things, now, would it?
I have to admit that I was impressed with how fast that cheap orange car could go, and how fast Greg let it fly. We made a quick stop for gas, returned the car, and made it in the airport just in the nick of time to see our flight disappear off the monitor. We were suddenly faced with the prospect that our "cheap" little trip out east could end up costing us quite a bit more than we would ever consider paying under normal circumstances. Thankfully, the NWA agent couldn't have been nicer to us (much, MUCH nicer than the lady six months ago was), and he booked us on a flight to Detroit, and from Detroit to Minneapolis on an 11pm flight. We ended up standing by for earlier flights out and finally made it onto an 8:50 flight to Minneapolis on our fourth try. We didn't have to spend the night anywhere or spend any more money to get home, so we were actually pretty lucky, if you can consider spending almost your entire Sunday sitting around airports and on cramped jets lucky. The cab ride home was a little dicey, but we finally made it and were greeted enthusiastically by the Osk. And hopefully we learned a lesson from this all....but I guess time will tell on that one....so goes the latest installment of the Maass Family Travel Journal....
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