True Tales Of Survival, Part VII

I sleep fitfully, probably due in part to the three hour nap I took yesterday afternoon. When I wake up I gather my stuff, only to find that I have somehow lost my room keycard. I look through the room several times for it to no avail and decide to give up and go to the continental breakfast. The breakfast room is filled with good ol' boys, most likely from West Virginia. One of them is talking about how he can't figure out how to use his BlackBerry, which he refers to as "this phone with all them keys."

I check out of the hotel (the clerk doesn't care at all when I tell her I lost my key) and ask if the airport shuttle is running. She says it isn't and offers to call me a cab, which I take her up on. The dispatcher on the other end of the phone as the clerk calls takes an longer time explaining something about the transaction than would be expected, and the clerk looks annoyed. After hanging up, she tells me "They said they'd get here as soon as they can but they might be slowed up by conditions," adding "I don't really know what they're talking about, the main roads are clear." Sensing that this delay might be a final twist of the knife of the region's lack of moxie into my travel plans, I thank her, tell her I'm stepping outside to check out the conditions, and walk to the airport.


The route requires me to cross a divided highway, but no one is out, so it isn't a big deal. I make the walk in about 15 minutes. The weather isn't quite cold enough to bother me and there's no wind to speak of. I reflect that it's a good thing I got a hotel so close to the airport.



The airport is fairly sleepy at 7 in the morning. Everyone there seems to be getting on the same flight I am. Most of the passengers are members of the Florida Gators Track and Field squad and are dressed in identical track suits. The plane pulls into the gate and the runway looks clear. I might be able to make it out of Virginia yet.



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