Welcome To My Nightmare I am now back in St. Louis, about 12 hours behind schedule. As many of you who do this much more frequently than I do can relate, air travel is not a fun process. But, much like going to the dentist, it's a necessary evil.

Our journey began even before Sunday's Cardinals-Braves game was off the air. Frank, Tom and I had to drive an hour to Fort Lauderdale to catch our flight, and so the decision was to make sure to get there plenty early. And we did. The trouble began once we boarded the flight. (Now keep in mind that Rene and a KSDK photographer had trouble with this same airline we would be using last month. But our travel folks decided to give them another shot. And in a perfect world, it would have all worked out. But I digress...)

We had a scheduled 46-minute layover in Atlanta, which is a big airport, but certainly do-able to get to our next gate. But when the airplane sits at the gate in Fort Lauderdale for 20 minutes, you're tempting fate. The plane touched down at 9:00, as the pilot said it would. But then it took another 20 minutes to get to the gate, and then another 10 for the door to the plane to open. Say it with me now...no shot to make the second leg of the flight. Uggh.

Now, the hurry-up-and-wait process began. There were no other flights leaving Atlanta until this morning, so we (among many others) stood in line for the airline to provide us a lodging and food voucher. By this time, we've become zombie-like drones, traipsing through the airport to get to the shuttle to the hotel. (And did I mention my appreciation for a news photojournalist? They have to travel with a camera, tripod, and utility bag---oh, and then whatever luggage they have. We also traveled with a portable edit unit--portable in the way that that a tank is drive-able in a crowded parking lot--about 50 extra pounds that was usually hanging from my shoulder throughout the trip.)

Our intrepid trio forged on, finally finding a shuttle for the hotel we'd been assigned to. The driver, Perry, was a trip unto himself. He didn't stop talking the entire journey, saying, "We're gonna rock and roll. We've got another stop to make and then we'll be there in two shakes. Let's rock and roll." Well, Perry jammed his vehicle full of people and luggage until there wasn't room to breathe. And then he stopped and picked up two more folks. And Perry's monologue continued, at top volume and with great gusto. And presto! Just like that we were there---ok, it was longer than two shakes. Nice try, Perry.

We got there just in time for the hotel restaurant to be closing, so Frank (the man has restaurant in his blood, you may know. If you don't you obviously haven't been paying attention.) negotiated three to-go sandwiches from the kitchen folks while we stood in line to get our rooms. Finally, we got to our rooms, but something was wrong with the temperature. The room was warm, the toasted sandwiches were cold, it was 40 degrees outside, and I had shorts on. And I would have shorts on when it was time to leave, since the luggage was back at the airport.
Ah, but would we let that keep us from pressing on? Of course not.

Just about the time my head hit the pillow (or so it seemed), the alarms ( I set three, just to be safe) went off and it was time to continue the journey. Strap on my piggybacking editor friend and get back on the shuttle at 7 o'clock (or halfway through Today In St. Louis---shameless KSDK plug. Art, Jennifer, Scott and Heidi, you rock!), we get to the airport, and lo and behold, several hundred thousand of our closest friends are there, too. (OK, maybe I overestimated the number of travelers by a few--thousand.) The line to go through the security checkpoint was longer than it was leaving the morning after the Super Bowl in New Orleans just months after 9-11. The line snaked through the entire level of the airport--no spare room was wasted. But I will hand it to the security people I dealt with---they handled things with patience, calm, and aplomb, and 30 minutes later, I was processed.

The boards said our 9:10 flight was pushed back to a 9:50 departure--of course. Frank said he had heard that it would actually be 9:10, that the 9:50 was a mistake. I figured, with my luck, 9:50 might actually be early. Tom and I went to get some breakfast and then we get to the gate at 8:50, and they're loading the plane! (Good thing I talked Tom out of seconds.) We get on the plane with no troubles, and the door closes, and---uggh. The young woman sitting in the row in front of me with her two young girls tells the attendant that she isn't supposed to be on this flight---she needs to be on the flight for Sarasota! (One of the girls was asking her harried mommy, "How is daddy going to pick us up if we're in St. Louis?") So the door to the plane opens, off she and her girls go, and long, story short---we leave the terminal at 9:30. Late again.

The flight was uneventful, until we hit the ground. As the usual scramble takes place to gather belongings, upclip seat belts, turn on cell phones, stand up----oops, let's go back to that turn on cell phones thing. Frank, who is sitting next to me, is whirling around trying to find his phone. Frank lives by his phone, so this is a catastrophe in waiting. But he must have found it, because I reached down to get my carry-on bag, and when I looked up Frank was gone. Gone! Poof! Amazing.

Tom and I headed down to baggage claim, where we had a 20-minute wait to get our bags and see no signs of Frank. Finally the bags come (wet, from being unloaded onto a wet tarmac---thank you, St. Louis weather.), I head to my car, get on to the highway, turn on the radio, and there Frank is----like a cooped-up animal suddenly released into open spaces. He was in his element, talking NCAA tournament brackets and not coming up for air. He is truly something to behold.

Now, it's on to the station---three sportscasts to prepare and a spring training special now ten days from air. An eventful four days--plus one---are now in the books. And just knowing how much this country relies on the travel industry for business as well as pleasure---well, I can only shake my head enough for those around me to hear the marbles rattle...

Until next time... ¶ 10:14 AM