I am not home in Cleveland.

I am in Chicago.

I am in a hotel supplied by Southwest Airlines because my flight was delayed at 3 this afternoon, I missed my connection, and the next flight out is at 6:50am. I have been in Austin, Houston, St. Louis, and Chicago, now. That’s bad enough. But my bags are ahead of me so I have nothing with me, the shuttle did not come to pick me up at the airport until an hour after my flight landed, and the taxi driver refused to take me because he somehow didn’t know where the hotel was and wouldn’t call it in to find out.

On top of that, the shuttle wasn’t going to let me on even when it did get there, and make me wait something like an hour and a half further. The driver was very mean and harshly told me to get off the shuttle and wait while he looked for other passengers. I was barely holding it together at that point, I was so tired and hungry and cold, standing out in the freezing Chicago night, that I just burst into tears and stood there crying, trying to get myself under control after ten hours of being jacked around by the airline and having been awake most of the weekend.

The shuttle passengers revolted and wouldn’t let the driver leave without me, so I am in my hotel. For a little while. Thank you, random people.

I have to pay for a taxi–assuming they can find the airport–because they can’t get a shuttle here before my flight leaves in the morning. So that’s nice. I’m sure I won’t be reimbursed. My cell phone is dead with no charger, so I can’t even call anyone.

I hope I get back to Cleveland in the morning. The con was good. I will report when not hysterical. But I’m on my last leg now, and I just want to go home.

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