This weekend, I'll be in Charlottesville, VA, enjoying several days of intellectual stimulation in the company of convivial Victorianists.
That is, if I can ever extricate myself from the clutches of a very damp state of New York.
The morning began with an apologetic robo-call from US Airways, informing me that my 9:31 AM flight out of Rochester had been canceled. First reaction: My flight is gone! NO! Second reaction: It was at 9:31 AM, not 11:00 AM? NOO! Third reaction: Wait, my flight really is at 11:00 AM, and yet they're calling me about a different flight. Does this mean that they've bolluxed my reservation? NOOO!
That sorted, I arrived at the airport, to discover that my plane was on time. Except that it wasn't on time. Feelings of sadness ensued, thanks to the prospect of a busted connection to Charlottesville, VA. (There aren't that many flights to Charlottesville, VA.) Nevertheless, the gate agent found a workaround. It would involve a very long layover in LaGuardia, but I would still make it to my destination.
Finally, the plane departed Rochester, bounced a bit on its way to LaGuardia, and landed...just in time for me to make my connection after all! Cheers! Felicitations all around!
This celebration lasted approximately the five minutes or so it took me to deplane, as I promptly discovered on my arrival that the connection in question...had been canceled.
Only five hours and six minutes to go on my layover, in case you're wondering.