But she woke to a violently jolting plane and the pilot’s calmbut serious voice on the intercom system. “We’re forced to make an unscheduled stop in Grand Rapids.” He cleared his throat. “This is due to a development of multiple tornadoes down south.”
“Tornadoes?” echoed the man behind Carol.
“Grand Rapids?” the older woman at her side exclaimed. “Why on earth are we going there?”
“Probably because they’re not having tornadoes in Michigan,” the man in the aisle seat said. “Don’t get yourself all worked up, Helen. We’ll catch another flight when the weather clears.”
“How long willthattake?” she demanded.
“Do I look like a weatherman?” he growled back.
“Well, you’re the one who insisted we needed to take this trip at Christmastime,” she shot back. “I told you it was a ridiculous idea.” And on they bickered, back and forth. Meanwhile, the whole atmosphere of the plane followed their lead. The previously cheery crowd began to groan and complain as frustrated flight attendants attempted to calm everyone.
“It’s just a temporary inconvenience,” the flight attendant patiently told the feuding couple. “You’ll get connected to other flights in the terminal. It might take some doing, but you’ll reach your final destination. The storm won’t last forever.”
2
By the time Carol rolled her “lightweight” carry-on through the crowded Gerald R. Ford International Airport, it was feeling heavier. Outside, illuminated by airport lights, snow was starting to fly, and inside, all the TVs were tuned to news and weather stations as anchors reported that several major storm fronts had converged on the Eastern seaboard from Maine to Florida and were wreaking havoc on air travel. As she walked through, trying to decide what to do now, Carol noticed how every gate was bearing the dreaded “canceled” signs. Instead of looking like a terminal, the place resembled a messy campground with people and bags piling up everywhere.
Although she knew it was probably pointless, Carol joined a herd of other disgruntled travelers who were lined up in front of Delta’s information counter, staffed by a single clerk. When Carol’s turn finally came, she could see the weary young woman had memorized her spiel and was politely reciting the same message she’d given the rest.
“We’re so sorry for your inconvenience. It’s unlikely that any flights will go out before midday tomorrow, but we do expect this storm to pass by then. We suggest you wait it out in an airport hotel and contact us later for more flight information.Probably by morning.” The clerk smiled stiffly and handed Carol a list of airline numbers and domains as well as the names of some local hotels. “Have a good day.”
Carol thanked her and, resisting the urge to point out it was nighttime, reached for her phone. After calling several of the nearby hotels, where she either got a busy signal or a recording saying there were no vacancies, she gave up. Checking the time, she realized that here in the eastern portion of the country, morning was just a few hours away. Why not simply camp out in the airport and be first in line for morning flights? And like scores of other weary travelers hoping to get comfy, she found a corner in a less-crowded gate, secured a seat near the window, and returned to her beach read, using her carry-on as a footstool. It helped a little, but it wasn’t like stretching out on a sunny Bahamian beach without a care in the world ... Hopefully by tomorrow.
The book failed to transport her, and out the nearby window, the winter sky remained dark, snow continued to fall, and morning felt like it had been abducted by some evil force. Carol’s back throbbed from the hard seat, and her sandaled feet felt like swollen ice cubes. To thaw them and get some blood flowing, she found a kiosk with stale coffee and walked around the terminal, sipping and watching for an agent to come and occupy the ticket counter where a few disgruntled travelers were already clustered like vultures.
Finally, a dull gray light began to illuminate one of the big windows. Even then the only thing really visible was a nearby runway blanketed in snow with even more blowing down in what appeared to be nearly whiteout conditions. A chill ran through Carol as she looked out on the scene.
After getting a fresher cup of coffee, she stood with a crowd gathered around the TVs listening as newscasters called this “the storm of the century,” which sounded more unbelievable each time they said it. Hadn’t they been saying that for yearsnow? But clearly no flights would depart this airport anytime soon. Feeling totally discombobulated, Carol sat down to ponder her situation. Getting a hotel seemed like an impossible dream but she tried anyway, hoping some travelers might’ve checked out in hopes of finding flights.
After many fruitless calls, she suddenly recalled her mom had an older sister who lived somewhere in Michigan. Although her mother and aunt were estranged, Carol remembered how this aunt used to send Christmas cards. Greetings her mom tossed in the trash, sometimes unopened, along with some harsh muttered words. For as long as Carol could remember, her mom had harbored a boatload of anger and resentment toward her older sister, but she’d always refused to divulge her reasons. Still, if Carol had a relative living nearby, perhaps they’d have a spare bed. Anything was better than another night trying to sleep in an uncomfortable chair among strangers.
Of course, Michigan was a large state, and it was very possible this aunt lived too far away. Or that she’d moved. And even if her home was nearby, could Carol possibly impose on someone she’d never met? Just until flights resumed? She wondered how old this aunt might be. Mom used to say that Maria helped raise her, but Mom was in her mid-sixties. Her sister might be ancient, or she could have passed on. And road travel in this weather could be too perilous for an elderly woman. Besides that, what about the sisterly dispute? Of course, that was a long time ago, and Carol was well aware that Mom could hold grudges. Maybe she’d brought this estrangement on herself ...Or this older sister could be a real witch.
Feeling she had little to lose, Carol picked up her phone, which was in desperate need of a charge. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in ages. They rarely talked anymore, not even at Christmastime. Did she really want to deal with her now? It was possible her mother’s number had changed. That had happened before. But feeling desperate and hopeless, she gaveit a try. To her surprise, her mom answered right away in her deep, raspy voice. “Mom, uh, is that you?” Carol suddenly felt tongue-tied.
“Carol Louise!” Mom said eagerly. “I was just thinking of you last night. How serendipitous that you should call. How are you doing, darling?”
“Well, not so good actually.” Carol gave a quick lowdown on her unraveling travel plans. “So I’m kind of stuck in Grand Rapids of all places.”
“That explains why you’re calling so early. But believe it or not, I was actually awake.”
“Sorry. I forgot the time difference.”
“That’s okay. I was just sitting out here on the patio in the moonlight having me a smoke. Please, no lectures. But, good grief, if you have to be stuck somewhere, why Grand Rapids? Isn’t that in the northeast somewhere?”
“It’s in Michigan. And it wasn’t exactly my choice to get stuck here.” Carol tried to keep exasperation from her voice. After all, her mom was being surprisingly friendly.
“Too bad you didn’t get laid over down here in Phoenix. We’re having a beautiful weather, and—”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Carol interrupted. Her mom could go on and on about trivial matters when she was in the mood, which she seemed to be now. “I actually called because I think I remember you mentioned having a sister up here in Michigan.”
“Oh, yeah, Maria.” Her tone grew sharper. “I suppose she still lives up there. She’s been there forever.”
“You don’t happen to have her phone number, do you?”
“Are you kidding?” Her laugh sounded more like a cackle, followed by a smoker’s cough. “Sorry, sweetie, but Maria and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
