Is this what traveling is?

It's a beautiful Sunday.  My last Sunday in St Louis visiting some wonderful new friends.

As the afternoon wore down, we all decided to hang out at the airport before my flight.  This gave me some time to check-in for my flight and check my bags before I say goodbye.

Waiting on line at the check-in counter I look up at the board at departure times...  That's funny.  My flight isn't listed.  I think to myself, "That shouldn't be that unusual.  After all, you commute daily on trains, and the board is so full with departures before yours they might just not have room to display it yet."

A few moments later, it hit me.  I look at the arrivals... Newark to St. Louis, the inbound plane that's supposed to turn around and take me home.  Canceled.

My stomach sank ... Ugh.  I have work Monday morning and didn't clear taking an extra day off.  I walk up to the kiosk, punch in my confirmation number and discover that I've already been rebooked for a flight on Monday.  That's no good.  I can't leave Monday.  I have work.

No big deal, I think to myself, as I press the "Other Flight Options" button.  Oh hey!  A flight that leaves only 15 minutes after my original scheduled departure with an added layover at Washington-Dulles.  I'll be in Newark an hour later because of the layover, but that I can deal with.

Rebook the flight.

Walk back to my friends.  I tell them the news and one asks if I would rather just stay the night and take tomorrows flight.  I kindly decline - I have obligations with work after all and wouldn't want to be an imposition.

I settle in to a seat at the gate after saying goodbye to my friends just outside security.

Things are looking well.  The sun is shining and it was a lovely day.

Board my flight, taxi, take-off, and have a nice flight to DC.  A little turbulent, and I could tell the person beside me hates flying, since every bump was met with closed eyes, a deep sigh, and a clutching of the arm rest.

Regardless, we land safely in DC.  I walk off the plane, looking forward to something to eat between meals.  I proceed to look at the board for my connecting flight... My heart sinks.  Delayed.  Till 11:15PM.  Originally scheduled to depart 9:50PM.  Okay, not terrible, but I'm getting a little grumpy.

At this time I've decided not to take public transit home from Newark.  Schedule is running a little tight and I would hate to miss the last train back to Long Island.  So I call my roommate and arrange to have him pick me up at Newark when I land.

The plane boards at 11:15PM as anticipated.  We taxi... And sit... and sit... Captain gets on the intercom and tells us that due to air traffic congestion at Newark, our departure would be delayed.

Joy.

Call the roommate and let him know that my plane is delayed.

Midnight Monday.  Yay we're finally underway!

Smooth flight into Newark.  No beverage service since it was such a short flight.

Disembark.  Go to baggage claim and wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Half an hour for bags.  Patience running thin.

Roommate gets to the airport and I hop in his car.  Off we go!  Finally I'm going home.

Make it to Hylan Blvd on the Staten Island Expressway.  BLAM!  Hit a pothole.

Rumble, rumble, thud, thud.  Shit.  Flat.

Aggravation level - rising.  Alright, I've changed tires plenty of times before.  Lets just get this started.

Man it's cold.  Oh god and it's starting to sleet.  Fuck.

Let's get the jack, tire iron, and spare.

Man these lug nuts are on tight ... Oh there it goes, I guess I just needed to put my body weight into it and ---

...

I broke the fuck tire iron.  The cheap piece of shit is hinged and the metal just bowed under my weight instead of turning the nut.  FUCK. ME.

Oh, the roommate has roadside assistance.  Great!  Call them right the fuck up since it's getting late.

Woah there's an awful lot of cars here that hit the same pothole.  Shit.  No one has a tire iron that matches our size.

What was that?  A call back from the insurance company about the roadside assistance?  WHAT?!  They can't come on the Staten Island Expressway because it's a restricted road?!  Fuck!

Alright... Let's setup for a tow to come drag us off the expressway so we can get assistance with this damn tire.

$139!?!?!  Fuck.  Alright, I guess I don't have a choice.

Get towed off the S.I.E.  Call roadside assistance back up.  Someone will be with us in an hour.

YAY!  He's here!  Tire swapped.  The spare is a little low, but no problem, we can hit a service station to fill it up with air.

Make it to the gas station, put air in the spare, and continue on our way.

Forty-five minutes closer to home, riding on the Belt Parkway.  BLAM!

You've got to be shitting me.  Nope... Blew the spare.

I'm going to slay someone.

Oh look, there's an exit for South Conduit Ave.  Fuck the rim of the spare, I have a feeling that the Belt Parkway is also restricted.  Drive off this damn thing and get onto the Conduit.

Pull off the Belt onto the Conduit.  Lets call roadside again.

Oh good they're willing to tow us home.

90 MINUTES!?!

Oh wow, only twenty minutes later, and a truck shows up.  These guys are good.

"Hey are you from USAA?!" - I'm surprised I can get excited.

"No.  Did they dispatch someone?" - He says and as those words hit my ears I know what's coming.

I replied, exhausted, "Yes.  We called in the dispatch about half an hour ago."

"They're not allowed to dispatch on this road.  This is a franchise road.  It's illegal.  They'll fine you and impound your car." - I don't think he took a breath while saying that.

This is really strange now.  We're not on the Belt.  We're on an avenue and those aren't restricted.

"I understand sir.  I'll take care of it."

"I can tow you to our shop."

"No thank you that won't be necessary.  We don't have any cash."

"That's okay, I can take you to an ATM."

Wow buddy... Let it go.  I have a feeling you're already full of shit.  Get out of here.

"Look, I'll get it taken care of.  Thank you for your help."

Finally he leaves.  The tow truck shows up and finally... Finally... at 7:30AM on Monday... I'm home.