I woke up this morning and it was hailing. Well, I say that I woke up. Actually, I�m not sure I was actually sleeping. As is my custom the night before a trip that involves many connections and unfamiliar places, I was wired and awake. I tried to think about yoga breathing to will myself to relax. Instead I got that annoying song �Breathe� by Anna Nalick stuck in my head � it was playing at the ice rink earlier this week and seeped through my headphones. �Breathe, just breathe.� Shut up, whiny girl.

In any case, I got up five minutes before the alarm went off as usual and went downstairs to check my flight information to see if the thunder and hail was causing delays. I discovered that my flight departure time had been moved to 10:23. P.M. This seemed kind of an extreme delay for a passing storm. I checked my itinerary. My flight was not for 9 a.m. as I intended. It was 9 p.m. [Insert picture of Harriet slapping her hand to her forehead a la Homer here]. I am officially an idiot. I tried to call the airline, but was placed on hold for a million years. I made the decision to go ahead and go to the airport and hope for the best. I skidded to the shuttle stop and parked in six inches of sleet slurry. Wading to the front door of the hotel was like wading in Styrofoam. As soon as I boarded the bus, I got on the phone. Forty minutes of Gershwin music later, success! Someone with an accent I could not understand appeared to have booked me on a flight leaving at the perfect time for the low, low fee of $25. At least I hope that�s what he said. I also hope no one on the bus was writing down my credit card number as I screamed it into the phone. This flight has been delayed as well, but to the much more reasonable hour of 9:50.

After booking my flight, I plugged into iTunes. I consider it a good omen that among the first couple of songs up were both Foghat�s �Sweet Home Chicago� and the Lemonheads� �Pittsburgh.� Next up was Joni Mitchell�s �Electricity,� which I took as a statement about the thundery weather. I will choose to ignore the next track up: Johnny Cash singing �God�s Gonna Cut You Down.�

At the airport, the nice guy at the check-in desk gave me a free upgrade to a seat for people with legs. I had an entire aisle to myself. My bag was the third one off the plane. I should have just missed the airport shuttle, but it was late so I practically waltzed from baggage claim straight onto the hotel bus. Aside from a 45 minute flight delay and a bumpy ride, neither of which was as bad as I could reasonably have suspected given this morning�s weather, I�m feeling like I�ve had kind of a charmed trip thus far.

That feeling did not change when I arrived at my hotel which is fricking gorgeous. It�s a Victorian era hotel that�s been restored elegantly � my room looks brand new. And I have a huge bay window overlooking one of the gazillion rivers in this city and a bright yellow bridge, suitable for illustrating any children�s book. AJ will be happy to know that I�m just a stone�s throw from not one but two baseball parks. And I was happy to discover that the conference hotel appears to be closer than I thought. I should probably go find some lunch and get registered. And tonight, unless I have to schmooze, I have a date with room service and the bathtub. Mmmm. Bubbles.

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