Don’t worry!  I’m just kidding!  So I got to the airport to take my flight from St. Louis to Chicago today at 1:30, and the flight was supposed to leave at 3:30.  Apparently, if there’s any lightening within a five mile radius, the ground crew can’t fuel the plane or load the luggage.  To make a very long story short, we sat in the plane until almost 6:00.  My flight from Chicago to Paris was at 5:55, so that means I get to have one more night in the US before leaving!  That’s why I’m sitting at a table in Bar Louie with about fifty televisions, a bunch of people wearing hockey jerseys, and Blondie blaring in the background.

While I was still in St. Louis I used one of the red courtesy phones provided by American Airlines and I called to rebook my flight.  I’ve been doing this long enough to know that there was no way I was going to make that flight.  No problem, I was able to book the same flight for tomorrow at the same time.  I was assured by the gate attendants that American Airlines would provide me with hotel and meal vouchers.  However, when I arrived in Chicago, I learned that it’s their policy not to provide vouchers when delays are caused by bad weather.  The lady working at the gate was very nice to me, and I was also very nice with her (it’s certainly not her fault).  I politely asked if there was someone else I could talk to about the situation.  She told me that if she called over her supervisor, he would most certainly say no.  She suggested I go to the ticket counter outside of security because the supervisors over there are nicer.  I didn’t need more encouragement than that, so off I went!

When I got to the ticket counter I saw a supervisor, and I told him my story.  He told me I’d have to talk to a different supervisor about this.  I asked if the other supervisor was nice, and he told me that if I flash a big smile and talk with a Southern accent that maybe I’ll have some luck.  Indeed, he was very nice, and I’ll be darned if it didn’t work.  I got a voucher for a hotel and three meals, and that explains why I’m sitting in Bar Louis at a hotel near O’Hare and not on a flight on my way to Paris.  I’ll just consider this evening of hockey, Blondie, and quesadillas a little bonus and a last call for Americana.  I do feel guilty though.  François and the kids are at home sleeping on air mattresses that deflate during the night (b/c we shipped all of our furniture last Friday) and I get to sleep in a comfortable bed.