Lets Backtrack - Part III

Finally on the plane to leave Las Vegas for my layover in Phoenix, I can now relax and try to catch some sleep. When I get to Phoenix, I'm going to have to scramble to find not only somebody to pick me up at the airport in KC, but I am going to have to get somebody to drive me back to Des Moines... I fear that I am in for some serious begging.

In Phoenix, I call my mom - no answer. I leave a message for her to call back, but at this point I really can't put all my eggs in one basket and so I immediately dial a reliable friend of mine. My buddy Ryan is easily one of the most generous, and dependable people I've ever been lucky enough to know and if anybody will be able to help me out of this jam - it's him. No answer there either, so I leave a message. Now I'm starting to worry. If I don't get a hold of somebody soon, I'm going to be boarding the plane with absolitely nobody lined up to get me from KCI when I arrive.

Then my mom calls back - thank goodness! Relieved that I can at least now talk to somebody and explain the situation (but still not looking forward to the inevitable begging) I start by letting her know my location and that my trip to Vegas was a resounding success. Once a pause in the conversation appears, I tactfully slip in with "Well so here's the deal... I kinda need your help on something." Probably no introduction could have been more ominous and as she braced herself for the worst possible news, I knew that I had played the cards perfectly. Considering all the awful scenarios going through her head at this moment, the truth would come as a relief and she would be so happy to help. Turns out, I was right! Ride from the airport = check. Ride back to Des Moines the next morning = check. Life is good.

Of course one of the major letdowns to my little fiasco is that there would be no way I'd make it to summer camp that week. Evening program was slated to start only an hour after I was scheduled to land. Not no way, not no how! But given how bad thing scould be, I figure I'm still coming out ahead on this deal.

As time ticked by and I drifted in and out of sleep, we finally started to get near the KC area. Even without a map or any real indicators, I could just tell by the terrain below that we had long passed over the mountains and were now above terra cognita. However, sharing the sky with us on that evening was a massive thunderstorm that had decided to camp out directly above the airport - which meant we'd be circling until it moved out.

After about three laps around, the pilot comes on and informs us that we may in fact have to divert to another airport to refuel and then come back and try again. Of course being the geographical wizard that I am, I quickly deduce that there are only three options for a plane of this size to safely land and refuel - Omaha, Wichita, and Des Moines. All three are of about an equal distance away for our present location, but I figured Omaha would probably be the more likely of the three. But man, wouldn't it just be my luck to actually have to land in Des Moines, only to not be able to get off the plane due to FAA regulations and whatnot. Lucky for me, I wouldn't have to endure any such taunt as the pilot came back and informed us that we would be heading to Omaha. Fair enough.

Heading north, I look out the window and spot the Missouri River below. A minute later I spot a city on the east bank, it only took a moment to realize it was St. Joseph, MO. If I was now looking down on St. Joe, then it would be matter of seconds before I was looking down at my SUMMER CAMP!!! There it was. In all it's glory. I could see the dining hall, the swimming pool, the parking lot, the shotgun range. In fact, this was right about the time I would have been arriving at camp via my car had everything gone according to schedule that morning. But here I was, fifteen thousand feet above all my friends who were no doubt busy getting preperations made for the program. I waved from my window, but something tells me that it went completely unnoticed...

Finally in Omaha, we get refueled and then we get the pleasure of just sitting on the tarmac. For anyone who's ever been stuck in that situation, you know much it sucks. You know that you are imprisoned in your seat, with nowhere to go, nothing to drink, the air coming out of the vents is stuffy and warm, which is really not helped by the heat of mid July. We endured the "Oven of Omaha" for an hour before we were finally given the go-ahead to head back to KC.

Forty minutes later we were landed in KC, I had my bags collected, and my mom was there to get me as promised. She was even sporting enough to treat me to nice dinner before getting back to the house. At 10:00pm that night, exhausted, I crashed. The next morning it was coffee, and then we hit the road for Des Moines.

Lessons learned:
- Never underestimate the binding power of family. Mom was my hero that day!
- Never book a flight from vegas in the morning. Bad idea.
- Most importantly, foreign relations are overrated and I am now a staunch isolationist!