Camping In Row Three

That aforementioned line of thunderstorms (referred to as TS by those in the industry) resulted in something called a ground stop in Chicago just after we got there, and that's exactly what it sounds like. You might not have ever thought of it before, but when you're stranded at the airport, so are we. But you're in a terminal, with a lot of expensive food, expensive drinks, and Oprah. We're still on the plane. It got a little foggy after the first three hours, but I think we spent six hours on the plane. It wasn't all that bad, really. Luckily we had a cold wind outside the open door, which gave us cool air inside by the time it got to us. Someone had been considerate enough to forget Tyrannosaur Canyon in one of the overhead bins, and so I whomped through that. Ate a lot of pretzels. Drank some Pepsi. The only hard part was stepping over the pilots, who were stretched out over the aisle, and trying not to wake them up as I tip-toed to the lav.
It's a life of glory.