1300hr
Mood:
Fact of the day:
event of the week
This is Po Chin's version of our unlucky day.
So, Cindy is currently studying for her two exams tomorrow and I am feeling sorry for being such a distraction. It's been a day of recovery -- lounging around doing nothing and getting over yesterday's problems.
The details of yesterday's trials and tribulations are shocking in their unlucky coincidences.
I was feeling lucky when United Airlines said that their flight was delayed because I was already in the line to check up on my frequent flyer miles information; and thus, I was sure to get the next available flight. The guy recommended either that I wait out the delay for an indefinite amount of time, or take American Airlines an hour later. I said I would take the latter option, since I had once been stranded in Memphis, Tennessee for 3 hours waiting for an "indefinite delay" to be over and done with.
I received a ride from a guy who drove a commercial shuttle when I was struggling out on the main road with my suitcases. He asked me if I had been intending to walk over to Terminal C, and I said no, I had wanted to walk over to the airport shuttle stand, which was about 50 metres away. He said hop on. I did, feeling happy like I always do when someone is voluntarily nice like that.
The American Airlines flight itself went without a hitch. That is, until I got off the plane. I started thinking about how Cindy would already have left because she had two tickets for the Greyhound at 6:30 p.m.; I had arrived at 6 p.m.; and she didn't know which airline I had changed to. I thought that she had an exam the next day (today, Tuesday) and that the 6:30 Greyhound was the last one of the day to Champaign. So I was toying with the possibility that she had left.
I wondered whether to go to Terminal 1 (where I would originally have been) to look for her before collecting my luggage but my natural paranoia about luggage took over and I walked to the baggage claim first. Carousel 4. I waited there for 15 minutes, watching foreign bags appear and Flight 1631 finally disappear from the computer screen. Then an announcement said that our bags were actually on Carousel 9. For some strange reason, I was one of the only few passengers on the flight who had not received this correct information.
I saw my big black suitcase immediately, took it, and waited for my small blue one. I waited a few minutes before I realised that there was really no one around and the computer screen said that all bags had been delivered.
This is not the first time I have lost my luggage bag.
I had to file a report and all the while, I was worrying about Cindy. I was almost in tears, but not quite. I thought that if I could find Cindy, nothing would be quite so bad.
I pushed my big suitcase along on the airport transit to Terminal 1. I walked through the whole of the baggage claim area, and paged her twice. She wasn't there. Instead, a Cindy Crutz (ha ha) replied to my page. That was rather hilarious, but I wasn't in the mood to laugh about it. I was wondering what to do; my mind was racing along. I didn't know if there were any more Greyhounds back, I could not call Champaign from a public phone because AT&T would not accept my VISA card and I had no phonecard; Champaign is a 2 hours' drive away. I wasn't even sure where Cindy was too, though I was quite sure she had gone back to campus by that time.
I considered taking a cab to UIUC but when I found out it was US$250, I said forget it and called a motel/hotel instead. I took the free shuttle there and charged $66 to my parents' credit card. The manager was fascinated by the fact that I was from Singapore.
When I entered my room, I headed immediately for the phone to call Cindy. No one picked up the phone. I called my mother and told her about my predicament in a choked voice, trying not to cry because I didn't want her to think that I couldn't take care of myself. (No no it's not true, I am already twenty years old, I can take care of myself...) When I hung up, I promptly burst into tears. Then I wiped my face and called Li, who's also in UIUC and Cindy's and my common friend. Thankfully, her phone was not engaged this time and she picked up. She told me that Cindy was still at the airport and had been looking for me for the past few hours. I gave her my room number so she could give it to Cindy when Cindy called back to check later. There was a Greyhound at 12:15 a.m.
So I gathered up my belongings; got the call from Cindy and called the manager to ask for the shuttle. When I checked out, he was kind enough to take $20 off my bill because he felt sorry for me (I was only in the room for an hour). Also he said it was because I had a nice smile. It was all quite eerie.
I was so incredibly glad to see Cindy sitting at the shuttle bus center waiting for me. Suddenly, it didn't really matter anymore that my flight had been delayed and that I had lost my bag (though of course, it did really matter). My friend was there waiting for me.
We took the 1-hour subway to the greyhound station, and Cindy told something that really took the cake:
The original flight had only been delayed 5 minutes.
We have a word in Singlish that describes this perfectly: suay. Which also means extremely unlucky and unfortunate.
When we got to Clinton, it was storming.
Great.
We walked in the rain, dear Cindy helping me handle my suitcase all the way while I attempted to protect my laptop with my umbrella. The streets were dark and lonely and the wind was so strong that finally it blew my umbrella inside-out and also broke it. We lost our way for 5 minutes and my contact fell out (luckily it fell into my hand because I had anticipated it). We were soaked to the skin.
Cindy and I thanked her lucky stars that she had not worn the thin white spaghetti-strapped top she had been thinking of wearing earlier. My jeans were in a miserable state, and I was worried about my laptop.
The ride on the Greyhound was 3 hours long. We were extremely cold and miserable; I felt as if I was falling ill as I sat there feeling sorry for myself, smelling the stinky feet of the other people on the bus who had taken off their shoes so they could sprawl over two seats to sleep. I had not eaten dinner because I wasn't hungry but I was nauseated. I could feel the odd sensation of cold water evaporating from my skin underneath my heavy blue jeans.
Fortunately, the Greyhound reached the Champaign station on time and Cindy managed to get her friend to pick us up.
I went to bed at 5:30 a.m. CST, which was 6:30 a.m. EST.
And that was what I can truly call the unluckiest day of my life. It's days like these that make one thankful for the smallest favours. Or the not-so-small ones, like having friends like Cindy "Crutz".
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