Still At Lanta.

Here I sit, broken hearted. Came to fly, but ain’t departed.

Soooo, at the last minute, last night the plane developed mechanical problems. They strung us along till 1:00am, then rebooked us all automatically to a new, added for our benefit, flight today. They gave us food and hotel vouchers, and sent us on our way.

Here I sit again, waiting for my third attempt to leave the country to fail.

At Lanta.

So, here I sit moldering in the Atlanta airport.  It was shut down for two hours due to severe weather on Friday… my travel day, and I missed my connecting flight to Manchester airport in England. Lots of heartache later (blog post forthcoming), and I end up staying the night at a roach motel nearby — at least it was better than sleeping at the airport.  I rebooked the flight last night before I left, and I’m on the identical flight today, unfortunately it doesn’t leave till 8:25pm.  They did, however, bump me to business class, so I’ll at least be a bit more comfortable.

What a fucking nightmare.  At least the weather looks good, and I have no connecting flights.  So, I just have 6 hours to kill.  Hope this one works out.

P.S. — Jeebus bless BlackBerry and an internet connection!  I can keep in contact with folks, and post blog entries as I sit here growing moss.

Welcome To The Pity Party, I Hope You Brought The Chips.

Prepare to be uncomfortable.  Feel free to look at your shoes, I don’t expect eye contact.

I’m a little drunk, I’m a little amorous, and I’m very alone.  I seem to quote a lot these days, so here’s to Meatloaf: “Two out of three ain’t bad”.

I got no one to snuggle, to keep me warm, to be there in the morning when I wake up.  Hooray!  Ain’t life grand.  The house is quiet and I have an empty bed to rock me to sleep.  You want the definition of misery, this is it.  Look it up in the dictionary, there’s a lovely picture of me… showing my good side too!

And tomorrow is another day.  Likely this will pass, and I’ll be fine for a few days.  Resilient, that’s me.  I always bounce back, except that I feel like a damned yo-yo these days.  Stamp “Duncan” on my ass and make sure my string isn’t wound too tight or it might snap.