…Wherein I actually GET to Chicago.

The icing on the cake happened today after a 5 hour cartrip to Minneapolis to catch my flight to Chicago. My trip, all in all, went well after a wonderfully caffinated latte from (gasp, I know) Bisonland with Thomas. Roads were perfect and the weather was sublime. Parking and navigation went as smoothly as I could ever hope and I called all the necessary individuals to let them know I got to Minneapolis OK and without delay.

HOWEVER, everything fell apart when I stepped into the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport. No, no, the CIA under the guise of Campus France did NOT tackle me like a football running back, but a bomb-sniffing dog went bizerk over a bag. Someone’s bag got noticed by TSA and their nosy (ha, pun intended) dogs and the whole airport got shut down, FOX News was called, the President was informed and the whole world collapsed for about 2 hours. Okay, okay, the last two are a bit of an exaggeration, but the airport WAS shut down and my feet DO hurt from standing in one place for such a long time.

In the meantime, I was one of THOSE people and pushed my little self to the front of the line (thank goodness I was there early!) and intended to hand-to-hand-combat-style-pwn anyone who decided that they were more important than my trip to the French Embassy.

So two hours, two friendships and a really growly tummy later, the TSA agents took down the yellow police “DO NOT CROSS” tape and the people (who, in my estimation, behaved very civilized in spite of inconvenience) burst forth with the desperation that only comes from people who are “almost-missing-my-flight-don’t-get-in-my-way.”

But now, with all that behind me, the sun is setting and creating a beautiful panorama of sherbet-colors. The flight attendants are practicing their evolved sense of balance while handing out drinks. No babies cry, no pilots panic and no insanty is here. It’s like a oaisis of normal in this whole chaotic 48 hours. How utterly beautiful.

Tonight I navigate “The El” in Chicago, get off on the right stop, hail a taxi for the first time in my existance and make it, somehow, to meet my best friend, her boyfriend and my cousin (who got a flight to Chicago and is hopefully much better). Tomorrow, I put my best foot forward and pray that the Embassy loves me, my passport, my bank statements, my high school diploma and every other piece of paper I own that has my name on it.

Until then, I’ll just enjoy the sunset outside my window.