As college graduation neared, our talk turned to employment. Several of my fabulous-looking sorority sisters applied to be and became flight attendants. Obviously, that wasn’t a career-choice for me because I was not attractive enough, nor liked to fly that much. Secondly, I had no desire to be in sales. I didn’t want to travel hither and yon five days a week, sleep in cheap hotels, and spend hours peddling wares.

Yesterday I was reminded of how awful and frustrating it must be to be a road warrior. Yes, I flew home on the worst travel day this year. (At least that’s what the news channel dubbed it this morning.) My simple, one-stop, six-hour air trip morphed in 13 hours! Flights across the country were cancelled leaving thousands standing in customer service lines or wandering aimless around killing time. At first, I told myself to just relax–nothing I can do about it. After all, I was only delayed a half-hour. But then I received numerous alerts that continued to change the departure time. The last message stated a four and a half hour delay. Now, I was torqued. How could I occupy my time for so long? Particularly in an airport that doesn’t sell newspapers.

Fortunately, I found a seat at the bar in an overly jammed restaurant and struck up a conversation with the bartender. Not only was she amusing, but her stories snapped me out of my poor, pitiful Sue mood. Little did I know this madness began on Friday afternoon when all flights in and out of Charlotte were grounded. One of her customers told her he’d been sitting in the airport for 38 hours. Her second story, though, was poignant. The elderly grandparents were on their way to DC to visit their four year-old-grand daughter, who they don’t get to see very often. “I bought her a snow globe filled with butterflies, but TSA threw it away because of the liquid,” she said through her tears.

But the worst story was told by my seat mate on the late flight back to Phoenix. His non-stop trip to Denver was cancelled, so the airline rerouted him: Phoenix to Los Angeles to Portland to Denver. Supposedly, he would arrive in Denver at 11:30 this morning–just in time to make his noon meeting. I was ashamed of myself for silently cursing my fate after this guy’s tale. “Wow. You must be really upset. You’re going to be flying around all night.”

“No, I’m used to it. Can’t do anything about public transportation, and certainly can’t do anything about the weather. You’ve got to roll with it.”

“Or re-career,” I thought. Never did I ever want to be a….