Oh well again

So, we’re out of heating oil, the explosioning is apparently the renewed black, and now Bob is having his typical traveling-through-Chicago luck–which is to say, no luck at all. And not even Chicago. This time, at least, the delay started long before the first take-off from Minneapolis.  He’s not answering his phone so I’m not sure if his sister still has him in custody or if he’s cooling (!) his heels in an airport he doesn’t know quite as intimately as O’Hare.

I first got word of his delay via himself, in a voicemail left about three hours ago.  Another hour later came the somewhat eyebrow raising electronic message–with it’s psycho lilt–for him, reassuring him that he might be booked on a flight from O’Hare for tomorrow night.  If he can get to Chicago by then. Why the psycho-automaton didn’t directly to his cell I can’t say:  or maybe he’s routing his cell phone calls here, in which case he will never get any messages while he’s gone.  And with messages like the one from the airline, maybe that is just allowing him to continue to be optimistic rather than facing the fact that he will never be able to fly through O’Hare smoothly.

So, I have to thank him for taking the onus off my own upcoming trip to Chicago.  His bad karma should be good for a week, at least, and my plan there leaves next Thursday morning.


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