My trip back to Michigan was pretty hectic, but I'm here, so it's all good.
I flew from the little Durango airport to Denver, then from Denver to Detroit. The guy who took my ID as I passed through security at the Durango airport studied it for a very, very long time before letting me pass on through. I began to wonder if something was wrong, but then I noticed his name tag. We had the same last name. Both of us were incredulous and a half. My (our?) last name is pretty uncommon; neither of us had met another Glebocki before. He asked me who my parents & grandparents were, but didn't recognize any of their names. And I didn't recognize any of the names of the relatives he mentioned. Weird. Cool & interesting, but weird.
My flight was scheduled to leave Durango at 5:15 (mountain time), but left 30 minutes late. So my 40-minute layover in Denver turned into a 10-minute layover. Ran. Or sprinted, rather. Made my flight with seconds to spare and pain in both my legs and chest.
Arrived safely in Detroit just before midnight (eastern time). Cha-ching. But then my luggage didn't turn up on the conveyor belt . Found out it's still in Denver. It didn't make it onto my flight. Not surprising, because I barely made it myself. So they're sending it to me today.
When I got home I was greeted by the affection of pets and a delicious late-night dinner of pierogi and margaritas, compliments of my mom.
Prior to this trip, I'd never been on an airplane. And I went alone. Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I'm spatially inept, so I'm rather proud of myself for managing to get there & back in one piece. And I had fun to boot. Besides, how could anything that ends with Polish cuisine and alcohol possibly be anything short of awesome?
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