Alright.

So I was definately supposed to be in Boston yesterday.
I am supposed to be in Boston right now. I am in Vancouver.
Why?
oh let me TELL you why.

So let's start from the beginning.
I, of course, didn't decide to do laundry or pack until the day of departure. I dropped off my laundry in the morning and came back upstairs to wash the remnants of the previous nights debaucheries off my face. So I get all pretty and Donnie comes home, we have some fun...: )...and then I leave to pick up my fresh laundry.

In the elevator back up to my apartment, my stomach dropped. I can't even explain. I got very anxious. I would think about the trip and the plane and the airport and it started getting worse. It wasn't even the usual pre-trip jitters, this was a genuinely bad feeling. In those situations I try not to let my superstition get the best of me but I couldn't help it!
I get in the apartment and finish packing while Donnie takes a shower. While I wait for Donnie to finish up I start cuddling Nikita and I SWEAR we have this moment. We were staring into each other's eyes and I just connected with her. It was strange, but nothing I wouldn't believe. I remember telling myself "Danny! How cute, tell Donnie you and his dog just had a 'moment'" and advising myself against it. I'm not a fan of the "You're a fucking freak" look. So I didn't. Either way, Nikita was just acting weird. I've known her since she as a baby so it's normal for her to nearly always being by my side but the whole afternoon she followed me everywhere, and would just sit and stare at me.

Moving on.

The anxiety at this point is tremendous and I'm doing everything I can not to freak myself out. I make a silent little promise to myself that if Nikita whines or barks when we leave (she never does) that it was definately a sign and that I should rethink the trip.
How silly of me eh?

Sure enough, Donnie and I barely make it to the elevator before I hear Nikita start barking.

woah.

Donnie convinces me to calm myself down and I tell myself to stop being such a weirdo and just go.

We finally get a cab to YVR and the traffic on the way there is insane. I've flown from YVR before, and I know it's Vancouver but it really was a little unnecessary.

Flash foward to us checking in. At this point I've considerably calmed down and remembered how much I was looking foward to this trip. As we check in, the automated teller says that due to "Operational Error" our flight was delayed until 2:00 p.m.

Oh well. I can deal.

I haven't been to YVR since they fixed up and I was very impressed. Once you're in passed the check point it's very nice and modern. Donnie and I sat and ate and looked out this massive window at all of the planes.
These giants. Slowly gliding their way back to their gates or rumbling up into the sky.

We make our way back to the gate and I still haven't completely shaken off the feeling. We sit and it isn't long before Donnie starts complaining about lower back pain. He has a history of kidney stones so that was not a good sign.
6 goes by. 7 goes by. 8 goes by. soon it's 9 o'clock and we still haven't boarded the plane. No one has explained to us what's going on and it isn't long before we're the only group of people waiting to board in the airport.
The feeling gets worse.
I start to think. This is so bizarre.

So let's recap:

.Donnie's back was hurting.
.The day we leave he finds out he has an infection in both eyes and has to wear his glasses that he HATES for the entire trip.
.Nikita was barking when we left
.Our flight was delayed... and delayed...and delayed.
.my intense so called "bad feeling"

So Donnie lies down and rests his little head on my legs.
I glance over at the flat screens above our gate and notice that it's the weather channel's map of the us showing warnings and watches.
and I notice, right in Massachusetts the yellow lines indicating severe thunderstorm watches.
so you KNOW I called my sister and asked her to look up weatherchannel.com and she confirms that there is actually severe thunderstorm warning for the Boston area.

fuck. that.

At some point in between there a woman approaches me. She doesn't know a word of english and is asking me to help her because I speak Vietnamese. I lend her my phone and she calls her son to tell him that the flight was obscenely delayed.
It was this sign of generosity that convinced her to stick to Donnie's and I's side.
Not without her interrupting us every two seconds to ask me what the hell is going on and reminding me to not leave her.

Finally at 9:30 p.m. we start to board.
I kind of freak out at this point.
I am convinced I'm not supposed to be going to Boston or flying period.
All those retarded signs right?!

Whatever.
I force myself on the plane and Donnie holds my hand because I'm a baby.
We get to our seats and I am sure of it.
I am so sure that we're not going anywhere. It was that feeling, and I gave over to it.
Donnie made me feel a little better and I mentally punched myself in the neck and told myself to get over it.
The flight attendant takes my drink order
"Vodka cran, please"
and we sit and wait.

We're told to make ourselves comfortable.
Enjoy our drinks and they apologized for the delay.
Word around the cabin was flights were grounded b/c too many planes landed at the same time and the runways were "clogged". Apparently there were planes that landed at six and the passengers were STILL on the plane waiting to get off and vice versa.

Wait for it.

and I am going to recount what the captain said almost verbatim.
I am not even exaggerating when I say he couldn't have been a couple of years older than me and looked like an abercrombie and fitch model.
Was I flying to Boston on Delta or was I a live audience for the filming of a gay porn entitled "My Captain Did on the Way to Boston"?

"Hey guys. uh, so I have some bad news. So yeah. We can't take off for another hour because other flights have priority, and um guys... I hate to this but like, we can't go at all. Because um...we aren't contracted passed midnight. I'm so sorry ya'll. I wish there was something I could like, do. but I think we're not going to be able to get you guys out of here tonight."

He said all of this with the fervor of the quarterback of a southern football team that had just lost a really important game.

WHAAAATTTT.

After ALL OF THAT, our flight gets canceled.
The Vietnamese woman, Hilda, follows Donnie and I back to the ticketing counter where my would-be fellow passengers and I are attempt to re-book.

Me being irritated and a lot intoxicated, being that we were on the plane for two hours and I obviously got my drink on, insisted that we be upgraded to first class for free.
We got upgraded. Hilda got upgraded too!

Donnie and I walk Hilda to the bus taking those passengers staying in a hotel, she blesses us.
Literally blesses us and we're on our merry way.

Donnie and I hop in a cab and I shell out another sixty bucks to make it back home.

I bought Donnie and I chinese, we cuddled in bed and we fell asleep.
Not after at least sixty "What the fuck happened tonight!"



and THEN this morning I read this:
4 charged in YVR Airport terror plot
VANCOUVER - Federal authorities announced Saturday they had broken up a suspected Muslim terrorist cell planning a "chilling" attack to destroy Vancouver International Airport, killing thousands of people and triggering an economic catastrophe by blowing up a jet fuel artery that runs through populous residential neighborhoods.

"The devastation that would be caused had this plot succeeded is just unthinkable," a Canadian Attorney said at a news conference, calling it "one of the most chilling plots imaginable."

In an indictment charging the four men, one of them is quoted as saying the foiled plot would "cause greater destruction than in the Sept. 11 attacks," destroying the airport, killing several thousand people and destroying parts of Vancouver's downtown core, where the line runs underground.

Holy Shit.

Geez.

I apologize for being incredibly long-winded.
...


sike.
However, if you had the patience to read the entire thing, remind me that the next time I see you I owe you a beer and a hug.

Deal?
Deal.