So, A.M.C. and I drove to Nashville last night for the express purpose of catching a 6 am flight out of BNA to Denver the next morning. We checked into the hotel without any problems, and tried to crash early since we planned to be up by 3 am the next day. Not being used to hitting the sack that early, we both had a little trouble falling asleep. Nonetheless, when 3 am rolled around we dutifully crawled out of bed, grabbed showers, and got out of the room on time. We showed up at the checkout desk around 4:15 am, where we were informed that contrary to our expectations we WERE expected to pay for parking. The irony is that we drove up a day early to spend the night in order to avoid long term parking fees. Strike one against the greatest day ever. But we moved past it. We hopped in the shuttle, chatted with the driver on the way there, and felt pretty good about ourselves when we got to the terminal around 4:30. Where we were greeted by roughly 50 passengers already in line at Frontier's check in. So we took our place in line. And waited. And waited. Then, from somewhere up ahead we heard those fateful words... flight cancellation. A.M.C. and I looked at each other. A.M.C. and I freaked out. A.M.C. called S. (it was 3:30 am in Colorado by the way) while I sneaked to the front of the line to read the sign. "Flight 239 cancelled due to lightning strike." Really? Really. So we waited in line for another hour while the harassed airline employees jumped through hoops to get us all onto different flights. At 5:35 we found out that we would be catching a connecting flight to Denver through Houston. The flight left at 6. Somehow, we made it to Continental's terminal, checked our bags, raced through security, and flung ourselves onto the plane by 5:55. Phew. As it turns out, our new flight was an ExpressJet, which equals tiny. A.M.C. and I grabbed the last two seats together... right next to the lavatory. Fun times. The only saving grace about that flight was the free muffin and coke, which definitely saved our lives. We landed in Houston, with just enough time to make our way across to gate C 44 and onto, thankfully, a larger, nicer, and better smelling airplane. Unfortunately, due to the crowded flight, A.M.C. and I were split up, and we each sat in the dreaded middle seat for the duration of the flight. More than a muffin and a beverage service saved this flight though, inflight movies were provided. I owe so much to Tyler Perry's Madea Goes to Jail.
So we get to Denver, disembark, and miracle of miracles, our luggage made the journey with us. After that kind of day, I'd had my doubts. So after grabbing one red suitcase that wasn't mine, I pinpointed the correct one and hauled it off the carousel. After a short wait, we were picked up by Marcia and cruised a loop around the airport while waiting to pick up Fred and Jeb. She took us to their apartment, and we ate pizza and crashed.
Coming up... the bachelorette party!
