Stranded
- 02
- 17
- 10
She sat there. A young mother flanked by two twirling girls. Her tired eyes darted between her babies and her bags. A clumsy stack of carry-ons and a car seat and a stroller waited nearby. She fiddled with her phone. She doled out snacks. She broke up skirmishes.
And she waited.
She waited for her husband. He was returning the rental.
She waited for her boarding passes. A nice man clutched them mere yards away.
She waited for home. Away was nice, but home beckoned.
And, as always, she waited for other things. Answers to questions that nipped her. Relief from exhaustion that gripped her. Balance between things that tugged her. Presence in a moment that would flee.
And her husband came along. And her girls crooned one word.
Daddy.
And this simple word made her smile. A big smile. A goofy smile. A crescent of pride and exasperation and love.
And the kind man brought the tickets. He told this small family that they would have to wait a bit longer. He said several bad words. Issue. Problem. Weather. Canceled.
Canceled.
They had choices. None was great. Wait eight hours for the next flight out? No. Pay thousands to switch airlines? No. Stop over in another state where they might also get stuck? No.
Stranded.
They booked a flight for the next morning. They called a hotel. Booked a surprisingly affordable suite. They rented another car. They explained to a confused little girl that the “plane was too snowy.” And she was sad. Mostly because she wanted to get home to her own forgotten toothpaste. Her parents’ paste was “too spicy.”
The suite was blanketed in yellow and gold flowers and toile. There were lush drapes and stacked towels and little soaps. There was a little crystal bowl of dried cranberries which a certain someone declared “too scrambled.” The little girls zipped around, chasing each other, stopping only to hug and hit. Mother and father?
They surrendered to a day they didn’t design. To a stop they didn’t expect. To moments they never imagined.
Moments.
There were rowdy races down long hotel hallways.
There was a swim in a vast hotel pool.
There was a DVD marathon on a yellow couch. There was an early dinner at a local seafood restaurant. The girls bounced on either side of the big booth, tossing crayons, nibbling fries. Mother and father?
They shared a shrimp cocktail and blue crab dip.
Back at the hotel, before bed, that young mother realized something. She realized that there was a curious sweetness in being stranded, in being sidetracked by something bigger.
She realized that going was good, but that stopping was grand.
She and her husband pulled tiny pajamas from suitcases and made the couch into a bed. In her mind, she combed through the day. Through the moments of frustration and anger and anticipation. Through the moments of silliness and resilience and judgment.
Moments.
And from these moments, she picked a favorite. It was a relatively small moment. A tiny speck on a long day. In that moment, the mother sat at the little desk in the hotel suite. She tried to connect to the Internet. To one of her worlds. And she had trouble. And she panicked a bit that she wouldn’t be able to have that conversation that had come to nourish her. That conversation with certain strangers who weren’t strangers.
But then. She was yanked outside of herself. By two little creatures running naked on a sunny yellow carpet. The big girl wore nothing but a pair of New Balance sneakers. Gray. Stained by yellow highlighter. The little girl ran after her big sister screaming and pointing, “Shoes! Mine!” At this blur of porcelain skin and blonde hair and blue eyes, the mother swelled with pride and clarity. At this fleeting portrait of affection and competition and life, the mother melted. At this glimpse of her girls and her genes and her glory, the mother felt the wilting of waiting. And an answer or two arrived.
Bedtime kisses and snuggles. Lights out. The little girls settled in. Mother and father?
They retreated to a vast bed decked in friendly flowers. They kept their voices low. But they talked. And talked. About silly little girls and big bad dreams. About furious devotion and deep doubts and unexpected detours. About gray skies and new balances. They talked about the thicket of time, the chasm between control and contingency, the certainty of uncertainty. In hushed tones, they talked about landscapes. Of life. Of love. Of longing.
And then they turned off the lights and went to sleep.
Before she succumbed to the slumber that would take her swiftly, that young mother thought of the words of a wise man named Samuel Johnson.
“Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks.”
And these words made her smile. So did the thought of snowy planes and spicy toothpaste and scrambled cranberries. So did the image of naked baby butts.
Warmed by the bright blaze of an unexpected adventure, an unplanned exercise in standing still, that mother closed her eyes to wait some more.
For morning.
For a new flight.
For home.
For more stranding sparks.
__________________________________
Twenty-eight hours after leaving our family’s place in South Carolina, we are finally home. And happily so. But I must admit that we enjoyed our first ever hotel stay as a family.
What was your worst travel day ever? Have you ever been stranded somewhere? Did you curse the inconvenience or embrace the detour or a bit of both?
**Speaking of embracing the detour, please check out this fantastic new blog brought to you by my friend and fellow lawyer-turned-writer (and brand new mommy) Lauren Miller.**
I love Lauren’s blog!
And what a great day (in the end) for you and your family. Whenever I am traveling, I always want to stay “just one extra day.” I only got my wish once and it too involved a beautiful hotel room with warm shades of gold and yellow.
My worst travel day was coming home from London through Philly when I lived in DC and wanted to be back at Dulles. We didn’t make our connection in Philly and they lost our luggage somewhere along the way. This was about 8 years ago however, when I was much more apt to lose my temper and when my anxiety when plans went awry was much greater. At that time in my life, I could not and did not embrace it. I yelled, I stamped my feet, I threatened. And I spent a miserable night at a dowdy hotel somewhere outside Philly. At this point in my life, I would have sighed, accepted the change in plans, and tried to enjoy my night away from home. In that sense, I do believe people can change. I have changed. I have changed for the better. I would much rather travel with me now, than 8 years ago. I have a more fine tuned ability to embrace the detour than I ever could have imagined I would on the day I got stranded coming home from London . . .
“they surrendered to a day they didn’t design” – love it.
Great, wonderful musings, and beautiful images of your day – and of your life.
Thank you.
I was five years old. We were somewhere between Tok, Alaska and the Canadian border. No man’s land. It was -65 and I don’t mean “with wind chill factor”. It really was. And then the old Jeep’s heater died. And we slowed to a crawl. 5 or maybe 10 miles an hour, my Mom scraping the rapidly freezing windshield so my Dad could see out of a six inch hole. We drove like that for what seemed like days, but was more like 7 hours. Until an infrequent and unlikely motorist pulled over and saved a mom, dad and three kids from quite literally freezing to death. It took us more than a week of false starts- of epic traveling horror- to reach Whitehorse, YT.
That was my worst ever travel experience. But life isn’t over, yet.
My worst travel day? After traveling for three days to get from Bariloche, Argentina, to Lima, Peru — via four buses, three taxi rides, and three plane trips — we arrived in Lima late at night to find our luggage missing. After waiting an hour in the Lost Luggage line, it never appeared. We exited into a sea — a SEA — of people to find that our driver had left us, undoubtedly after having waited two and a half hours for us to exit customs. Having been warned NOT to take unapproved taxis in Lima — kidnappings and violent assaults are typical at night — we got confused and took an approved taxi that cost $50 for a 10 minute ride. But despite assurances that our driver knew where our hotel was, that 10 minute ride turned into an hour-long detour through some of Lima’s sketchiest neighborhoods. Long story short, we FINALLY found our way to the hotel, where Maikael’s mom — sick with worry and about ready to call the embassy — was waiting for us. We got an hour of sleep before we returned to the airport…to get an ANOTHER flight to Cusco. QUITE the day!
PS: We still never had our luggage by the time we left for Cusco. It arrived four days later, via New York.
Love this reminder about the beach glass so often waiting for us among the sand – especially the child-talk details of spicy toothpaste and scrambled cranberries. Perfect.
FANTASTIC POST!
How lovely!
My worst travel day? Easy.
http://serialswooper.blogspot.com/2010/01/that-day.html
All winter we’ve been getting snow in 2-4″ batches. Enough to be inconvenient, but not enough to shut anything down. I’ve been longing to be shut down. Your hotel experience reminds me very much of the experience I’ve craved, and I’m so happy that someone got to have it. There’s something so freeing in that kind of surrender, and it’s usually extenuating circumstances that foist it upon us. Congrats on embracing your travel woes. And welcome home.
Aw, sounds like a great, if unexpected, stop on the way home. We’ve had this happen when the boats to the island get cancelled, maybe it happened to us 3 times in 9 years. There’s the first moment of OH CRAP, and then we hit Walmart for snacks and toiletries and embrace a night at a hotel.
Thanks for sharing the smiles – that was wonderful…
when I first saw the title….
Mom in bathroom, two little girls playing and running through the house, maybe using permanent marker on the family pet (or worse) and no toilet paper where mom is -
haha…
it was a funny image… but your post was much better!
My son is 10 and tomorrow will take his first solo flight home from visiting his grandparents. Your post reminded me of how airport travel was so different when he was a little one. Living far from our families, I joked that in his first year, we went to the airport almost as much as we went to the park. I miss the easy excuse for connecting with others that a small child brings. We made friends with other families with children, sharing snacks and toys, but also cracked the crust of the road warriors every now and then. Somehow even the delays weren’t so irritating.
I remember once flying back from Denver to DC we had a 4 hour delay or so. Not long enough to do anything but hang out, and he was due for a nap. So we found ourselves a quiet corner on the upper level, my husband got us some lunch and maybe a magazine and we settled in for a couple hours. I knew we were headed home, so my only concern was whether I’d packed enough diapers!
What your story evokes in me is that moment of surrender when you finally realize your plans are not going to work out the way you thought. I often fight like the devil to avoid this moment, but when I finally do surrender, it is so sweet.
Welcome home! As much as I love the creature comforts of home, I never feel stranded if I’m with my family. As long as the four of us are together, I’m ok. Yes, it’s inconvenient to not have the “right” stuff, but I can make do. And I’m so glad you were able to finally see your being stranded as a something special. You saw the good. You enjoyed the moments. And now, looking back, look at the wonderful memories you made. I love how you wrote this in the third person… beautiful.
“spicy toothpaste” (must be a universal kid thing!) and sleeping together in a big hotel room – your post flooded me with memories. I especially loved the line “going was good, but that stopping was grand.” While we weren’t on vacation, our little snow storm caused us all to “stop” together as a familiar and it was grand, indeed!
strike familiar and change to family — oops!
What a trip!
Sounds like you handled it with such grace
So far, every detour and stranded travel moment has turned into something fun, or at least something pleasant. As it seems you found out on your detour, it’s really mostly a matter of perspective. Letting it be fun is so much better than not.
Great story, Aidan, as always. Welcome home!
I love the way kids can make a big deal out of a little thing like a hotel pool. After all, there are so many more little things in life than big things. We should all be so lucky to be able to appreciate them with such delight!
Great writing, Aidan! Glad you all made it back safely.
We are very spur of the moment type travelers so we take detours as fun side adventures. Although I will admit that sometimes it is harder to find the fun. We once traveled from Las Vegas to Pennsylvania in 2 days- in a car with 4 kids in it. After that we decided we would only be flying anything longer than a 12 hour drive.
I love this post! so beautiful & poetic.
Last week I was trying to get to the midwest to visit friends and was briefly stranded in Phili and had to spend the night in Charlotte. I was glad I didn’t have my two teens with me… and got a room alone and slept well although briefly.
You stay sounds lovely and it is always the unexpected that turns out so well.