Post Sandy Guilt Trip

Chaotic Atlanta Airport

My wife and I made it home last night around 6pm after a day of travel from Ft Walton Beach, Florida.  The day started and ended passing by car wrecks, oddly enough.  We stopped for breakfast on the way to the airport and there was a fairly serious accident right out in front of the restaurant.  After arriving in Massachusetts on the last stretch of road to our house there was a huge display of blue police lights surrounding a pickup truck that took out about fifty feet of guard rail before plowing into the woods.  Fittingly, the first piece of mail I opened was the insurance settlement check for my own recent accident.

I’ve been feeling a little (lot) guilty for the last couple of days on a number of fronts.  I followed via email the challenges my co-workers were going through maintaining service through the storm while I was safely ensconced in a resort in Florida.  At the same time, one of my fellow roothuggers and his wife were stranded in the Atlanta airport trying to get home.  Finally another friend had volunteered to house and Buddy sit was called upon to sheppard the house and dog (who doesn’t do storms well) through the hurricane.

It turned out that Delta cancelling my Monday flight was the best thing that could have happened because the re-booked flight went off without a hitch yesterday.  I spent an extra day in an area I was reasonably familiar with, if decidedly lacking due to the absence of my Army buddies.  We left the fairly sleepy Ft Walton Beach Airport which was almost deserted and changed planes in a chaotic Atlanta Airport.

Atlanta is busy on most days but yesterday the impact of the storm was evident as desperate travelers were trying to get to their destinations around the storm’s impact.  Again, I felt a little guilty because we got off one flight and walked directly to the next gate and after a short wait boarded our plane for Boston.  The guilt was aggravated as I noticed my fellow roothugger’s latest chance to get home canceled on the overhead display.  I hoped to at least get a chance to say hey to him and his wife but the times were too constrained.  I still don’t know if he’s made it home to West Virginia after leaving Florida on Monday.

We were starving by the time we landed in Boston as airlines now seem to schedule around meals instead of providing them.  We hadn’t eaten since our traffic snarled breakfast.  We made our way through several of Sandy’s last gasp rain bands to a favorite neighborhood Cracker Barrel – country fried steaks and biscuits can assuage at least some of the guilt.

Buddy was appropriately apoplectic at our return and it was obvious he had invested a lot of time trying to train our friend over the time we were gone.  He seemed a little conflicted about whom to sit with after we settled in.  My wife immediately got on the bat phone to Panama to assure concerned relatives, who were watching Sandy’s depredations on their televisions, that we and our progeny were all well.  Back to work today, if a little (lot) guiltily.

Florida Accident

Front Yard the Day We Left

Front Yard This Morning - Sandy Didn't Like Foliage