crows to burnaby

So the plan was that this Friday morning, Greg and I were going to fly out to Philadelphia to visit his parents for Xmas.

So far so good?

Wednesday evening, we got home from work and checked our messages. There was an anxious message from Greg's mom letting us know that the Denver airport was closed due to a snowstorm, and since we change planes in Denver, we'd better check on our flights.

I thought, that's nice of her.

I checked the itinerary on Expedia. It said the flight was Thursday.

I checked the tickets I had printed out the day before. THEY ALSO SAID THURSDAY.

And then I vaguely remembered that yes, we HAD booked the flights for Thursday. I had a moment of real panic, realizing that I had misremembered our departure date and that our flight was actually leaving in just over twelve hours rather than a day and a half. You understand, I never, ever, ever do things like this. I am meticulous about travel plans, I like to get to the airport well in advance, I tend to anticipate every potential problem and figure out what has to be done to avoid it. The idea of me missing a flight because I got the day wrong is sheer horror.

But I took a deep breath and called up Expedia to see what was happening with the flights.

Sure enough, they were cancelled. No other flights on Thursday or Friday, and there was ONE flight available on Saturday. We took it.

So it all worked out okay. But I'm still freaked out about the idea that if there hadn't just happened to have been a snowstorm in Colorado, we would be obliviously missing a flight right now. It'd be near-impossible to get another flight, and the stress would be unreal.

Sometimes the universe helps you out a little bit. Thanks, universe.