My first clue should have been the assigned gate number: A-15. Huh. I thought Northwest flew out of the E-gates? Weird. But I didn't bother to glance at it until I was already hoofing it across the breezeway, barely looked at it when I checked in online and printed it out blurry eyed at 4.30AM.
Confident that it would sort itself out (these things always do -- the first rule of travel being, always, DON'T PANIC) I kept hoofing it, and found my spot in the security line. Blogged a little. Took a snapshot. Checked my boarding pass because that gate thing was just so strange... *GASP*. Loud enough that the fellow in front of me turned around.
My boarding pass read Midway. I was standing in line at O'Hare.
Start walking. Back on the train. Dial the travelagency guys. "Due to travel delays on the East Coast..." Sit on hold. Find my car. Pull out a map -- how do I get to Midway from here? Can I make it in 15 minutes? Hmmm -- unlikely. Agent picks up. I tell him what a dork I am. What I've done. He doesn't laugh. Oh come *on* guy -- laugh with me. Don't make me stand out here all alone in my dorkiness.
Next flight out of O'Hare: 5 minutes. No way I'll make it. Next flight out of Midway: 1 hr. Hmmm: traffic's still a problem. Flight out of O'Hare in 2 hrs? I'll take it.
Call my colleague and tell him what a dork I am; how we'll have to start our meeting 2 hours late.
Head back to security. Text everyone who might care about what a dork I am -- because the one thing dorkiness needs, must have, really, to take the edge off -- is company.
No reply. It's early yet. Maybe they just aren't up. Or maybe they agree that you're a huge dork and just don't know how to tell you.
Posting by cameraphone from O'Hare. Even though I oughta be posting from Midway.