I love traveling, really I do

The best part, to me, about living here in the DC Metro area is the traveling opportunities we have here. Since moving here I've tried to become an aficionado of airfares, train travel and public transportation in general.

This last weekend I was supposed to attend a conference in New York City and spend the weekend with my old friend Jay Melder. It didn't work out that way. Allow me to give you the written version. Trust me, it's worth the read.

On Friday, March 16, I awoke at 5 a.m. to take a shower and get dressed in time to take my 7:30 a.m. Delta shuttle to NYC. I arrived at the airport at 6:45, spent 30 minutes going through security (I got screened and searched) and arrived at my gate at 7:20, with plenty of time to still get on the plane. But of course, my flight was cancelled.

I hadn't checked the weather that morning and although it was only raining in DC, it was snowing and sleeting in NYC. The gate attendant told me that if I wanted to get to New York, I could run down to the other side of Reagan National Airport, change my ticket to USAirways and take their shuttle, which apparently was still flying.

So I ran to the other side of the airport (I had to catch the 8 a.m. shuttle!). Concerned about making the convention in time to be at a session where I was supposed to speak to student journalists, I made my way to the front of the line, changed my ticket, went back through security and got searched (again!). I made it to the gate on time, got on the plane and we taxied away from the gate.

We sat on the runway for an hour before they brought the plane back from the terminal. They told me I probably wouldn't make it to NYC unless I took a train. By this point it was 9:00 and I was going to miss my 11 a.m. session in NYC anyway. So my boss told me not to come.

But I had a great idea. I could fly to Baton Rouge and see my girlfriend. I went to the Delta line and tried to change my ticket to a Baton Rouge arrival (there's a nonstop that leaves DCA for BTR at 9:10, and it was delayed). But because they had changed my ticket to a USAir ticket, it took about an hour and a half to get it straightened out, and they couldn't send me anywhere near Baton Rouge.

Dejected, I returned home and plopped down on the couch, took out my powerbook and decided that I was going somewhere this rainy, Friday the 16th of March. So after much discussion with my dad in Houston and my mom in Natchez, I decided to fly to Jackson from Baltimore and go to the Natchez Pilgrammage Ball, which was to be held that Saturday.

Breland was going to meet me and it was going to be great. About this time I received the call that one of my good friend from Natchez's fathers had died in an accident, which made me want to go home even more. I bought the fully-refundable fare from Baltimore, about 45 minutes north of here, to Jackson, MS coordinated my step-dad to pick me up from the airport. About 2:30 p.m. I set off for Baltimore in the rain.

I walked a half-mile, got on the bus to the train station, on the train to the airport, and an hour later I was standing at the gate, only to see the words "delayed" on the screen. The rain had begun to freeze, the attendant said, and the flight that was supposed to take me to Jackson was in Buffalo, NY, and still had to take off and land to bring me to Jackson. It wasn't going to happen until about 9:45 p.m.. My flight was supposed to leave at 5 p.m.

More dejected, I sat there for about an hour waiting for the attendant to give me the final tally as to whether my flight would even take off. I left before she gave me the final answer. As I boarded the bus that would take me back to the train station and back to DC, Breland texted me that the flight had been cancelled. I wasn't going anywhere.

Especially when I arrived at the train station. I stood in line for an hour there because all the NYC/Philly/Boston passengers wanted to get home on this Friday, the 16th of March, and their only recourse was the Amtrak train. I fought through the hordes of northern-bound people and got on the southern-bound Amtrak. The sleet was so thick that the train attendant didn't notice my ticket wasn't actually for the train I got on, and I was able to get home 30 minutes earlier, in business class no less. My first lucky stroke of the day.

As I sat on the train I thought about it. I had been booked on three different airlines, been on three different forms of public transportation (train, bus, plane) in three different states, at two different airports going in two different directions. All in one 14-hour period. It was non-stop, to say the least.

Thank God for my friend Brad Golson, who picked me up in his car as my train arrived at DC's Union Station at 9 p.m.. I took him to dinner and went to bed.

This was how I spent the first day I've taken off work all year.