Everything seemed to be going well during our short vacation at my brother-in-law’s place in South Florida. My wife and I went to a nature preserve, a Japanese garden, a small museum, and more. But in the distance, we heard more and more about a big blizzard-type storm that was slated to hit New York tomorrow afternoon.
“You’d better leave very early tomorrow, before the storm hits,” Rhea’s brother said. Originally, we scheduled a flight back about 5 p.m. “What about the car?” I asked nervously, referring to the snazzy-looking red sedan I’d rented. “Don’t worry,” he reassured me, “I’ll take it in after I drive you to the airport.”
The next morning, we were at Palm Beach International Airport. The scene was hectic, with lots of people seeking to change their flights. Thank God, because of the emergency, they didn’t charge us extra. We congratulated each other that we’d get home before the hurricane hit.
But after two hours aboard our flight, a voice came over the PA system. “There are already dangerously high winds and precipitation over New York Harbor, and we can’t land in New York. We’ll be flying to Albany, where we can refuel. In the meantime, we’ll be looking for temporary housing for you.”
Well, I thought, that isn’t so bad. I always liked the city of Albany. We could hang out there for a day or two, maybe go to the New York State Museum, then take a bus back to New York City.
But when we landed in Albany, we got another nasty surprise. “Our apologies,” the voice said, “but there aren’t enough available hotel rooms in Albany. You can’t get off here and take a bus back to the city, because the New York State Thruway is totally snowed over and is closed. Amtrak trains are suspended. We’re flying back to Florida.” We all looked at each other in shock.
Later, we learned that we’d be flying to a different airport – Palm Beach International Airport. Motel rooms had already been reserved for us, and the airline would pay for our stay.
That motel was the Rodeway Inn in Delray Beach, and it was much better than we expected. They had a wonderful garden in the back, and we had a great time at a karaoke session in the bar. But it turned out that our rooms were only paid for one day, and we had to pay for ourselves the second day.
On the second day, most of the people who had been with us on the plane were told they could go back to New York on a new flight. But we weren’t among them. I began to panic. Did they forget about us?
The answer came on the following day, when we received a call telling us to get our things together, go to the lobby, and get on a bus to the airport. And so, our second, unscheduled, trip to Florida came to an end.
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