Today was one of the more stressful days out of a string of stress-y days, but it was not without its moments.

For one thing, I made it home finally…home to stroke Elmer’s ears, and clean clothes, and a Christmas tree that didn’t get taken down (despite all promises to do so, but that’s okay) and beef stroganoff and a big glass of wine with dinner.

Even so, it was less than what I expected out of today, but it’s hard not to expect a lot from a day that began with a bona fide miracle.

Let me explain.

Our flight out of The Ice Planet of Hoth Indianapolis left at 5:55. That’s A.M., as in Are you bleeping kidding Me? To make that flight, one must get to the airport at no later than 5 a.m. (it is, after all, Indianapolis), and to do that one must be on some mode of transportation no later than 4:30.

We had it made in the shade: there was a company-sponsored shuttle system starting up at 4. It’s like they knew we were coming!

So I was up at 4, snarfing down my leftover CPK pepperoni pizza (with white truffle oil!) and jumping into my jeans (I’m going home!) and lugging my swag-laden carry-ons (I scored a plaid blanket and a custom-etched beer glass!) down to meet Mike at 4:20, my guardian angel/coworker/traveling Buddha and go get on that shuttle.

Except Mike greeted me with the news that the shuttle wouldn’t actually leave until 4:45, which meant that we would probably not hit the airport until after that $%#^ flight was boarding, which meant I would miss it, which meant that my Thursday (which was already looking kinda scary) was going to commence with some major league suckage.

Unacceptable. We need a cab.

But this is Indianapolis, not New York City with a doorman who would summon a cab out of the frost heaves and make them take us to JFK or La Guardia. There’s no doorman. There’s no cab stand. There’s just me, Mike, a front desk clerk, and the cold.

If we want a cab, we’re going to have to call for one, and based on years of cab-calling, that’s gonna take about a half hour for one to show up, which will be about 5 in the morning, and another half hour at least to the airport, and we’re gonna miss that flight.

Unacceptable.

I was standing impatiently at the front desk, waiting for that clerk to finish up with two travelers inexplicably checking in at 4 in the morning and taking their own sweet time doing so, I might add, and Mike went to the front door of the Marriott.

Where he found a cab circling around in front.

A cab who was not here to pick anyone up.

A cab that had been requested the night before.

For no one.

No one, that is, but me and my guardian angel.

The rest of the day was kind of bite=y, but I guess a day that starts off with a miracle has nowhere to go but downhill.

© E. Stocking Evans 2014