Tarmac Woes

So, I landed in Chicago, ORD. There are many people who hate ORD (o’hare for those non-travelites amongst us), but I love it. I have been here or through here a lot, I find it easy to navigate, and I know the town so even if I get stuck here, it’s not a huge ordeal.

I contemplated moving to Chicago at one point, but I don’t hink I could stand the cold in the winters. I do love the city, and I love the fact that so many people walk everywhere they go. Once when Sweetie and I stayed here, I walked the whole way from our hotel to my meeting at Navy Pier – nearly two miles – one morning. It’s just such a nice thing to do since we don’t walk anywhere in LIT.

Today, as usual, we circled the airport a few minutes before we landed. It wasn’t a big deal, though, as I have circled a lot longer at other airports before and as I had a long enough layover that I wasn’t worried about missing my connection. The only problem today goes back to the full cup of coffee that I drank, along with the diet coke, before we landed. In other words, I really, really had to potty.

We landed, and amazingly we were right next to our gate. Much to my dismay, however, we drove past the gate and kept going. It seemed like my bladder knew that we were driving around, as it was becoming more insistent to be cared for. This was not a pretty sight.

After only about 5 minutes, but what felt like 30, we pulled up to the gate. I bolted off the plane as soon as I could, leaving the rest of my party in the dust. I looked back, and they were just waving me on, like my own little bladder celebratory party.

Five minutes later, after a handicapped stall (score!) and automatic seat cover changing experience, I was a new woman.

I walked outside the restroom, and my group was waiting on me, smiling faces and all. It was a good morning in the Windy City.

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