Travelblogue: Week 4 of 13

Monday, June 4th: Blah
Worked on memo due in two days.

Tuesday, June 5th: Blah
Worked on memo due in one day.

Wednesday, June 6th: Exhale
Turned in memo at 6:53pm. Phew.

Thursday, June 7th: Jetsetting
Flew to DC on the company dime to attend a weekend firm "indoctrination" conference at firm headquarters in DC. Took JetBlue and remembered why I love it so much as I munched on Terra Blue Chips and toggled between HGTV, FoodNetwork, and Comedy Central. Coast-to-coast never seemed less painful.

Stayed at the posh Mandarin Oriental Hotel in DC. My room was more than enough for little ol' me.

The bathroom was my favorite: stocked with exotic-smelling goodies and plush turkish robes. But the best part? The cleanest bathroom you will ever see on God's green earth (not even a single smidge on the grout in between tiles!) and a showerhead with water pressure so strong you could swear little elves are pummeling you. Ahhhh.



Friday, June 8th: Jetsetting part II
Had an 8-hour indoctrination session at the firm. It wasn't so bad. There was at least some humor sprinkled in between the usual rhetoric about excellence, diversity, growth, etc.

At precisely 7:49 pm that night disaster struck. I was waiting to board a flight to take me back to Boston, back to Michael, and on to a week-long intensive workshop at the law school and that's when it happened.

A disembodied voice came over the speakers and informed us our flight--MY FLIGHT! My long-awaited and greedily anticipated flight--had been delayed for two hours.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

This meant that by the time I would get home, it would be near 1am, which meant I would have to go straight to sleep so I wouldn't miss my training orientation bright and early Saturday morning. This meant no talking, luxuriating, and general relaxing with Michael. NO NO NO. This is NOT how it was supposed to be. This was the only time I could spend with Michael before the workshop consumed my life for the next 7 days, after which I would be hopping on a plane back to SF. Argh!

I pouted for a long time and questioned my faith in God. How could He send a storm that delayed my plane?! How could He do this to me! Of all times and places! Sure 8 year old girls are being sold into prostitution every day and war torn villages face deprivation and pillaging from savage rebel soldiers...but THIS, this was wrong!

And then it seemed like God answered my cries.

A lady came up to me and asked if I was waiting for the delayed flight to Boston. Yes, I replied, I was. She said, me too, you know they just announced that it was cancelled. WHAT?! CANCELLED?!

Yeah, she said, I know, sucks.

SUCKS?! You have NO idea. I immediately dragged myself to the service counter to confirm this stranger's bad tidings, feverishly praying that she was mistaken.

The pot-bellied attendant in front of the all-powerful computer monitor punched in a few codes and dryly confirmed my worst fears. For the first time in over a year I felt an overwhelming urge to cry.