was that bad luck or good?

Because my company is el sucko they keep booking me on these crazy two segment flights even when a direct flight is only a little more expensive. Don't give me that bullshit about "saving $50 for every employee adds up to blah blah blah". The accountants can come live my fucking life with me for a few weeks and see how great their cost saving plans are. So the managers don't get billion dollar bonuses. Boo hoo. I cry for them.

Anyway, I woke up at 3:45 because my phone was buzzing. I normally go back to sleep but this time I thought I should check it. Which is a good thing because the buzz was an email coming in from United saying my flight had been canceled. No other explanation. No "we rebooked you". No useful information.

I panicked because I had to be out here in Rhode Island today for a very important, and short, engagement. I got up and called united. What's up with that fucking circus music they play while you're on hold? It's not pleasant at 4 in the morning.

I finally got a representative who tried to book me on a new flight getting into Rhode Island at 10:45 PM. I was like "NO WAY dude". I have to be at the customer site at 8 am every morning. I'm losing 2 hours as it is. This engagement is in the middle of nowhere. Also, it was forcing me to have a 4 hour layover in Chicago. Sucktacular.

After me bitching and pointing out that I have booked 250,000 miles with united (do the math, considering I didn't fly for the time I was over in the middle east, that's A LOT of trips) in the past 4 years the guy got me on a direct flight to Logan from Denver at 8 am. I had to drive an hour to get to my hotel, and my rental car is going to be obscenely expensive since my return is different from my pickup (to the tune of $100 a day) but ask me if I give a fuck.

There were no crying babies on the flight but the guy next to me (I was in the middle seat) farted the whole 4 hour flight. Not just like occasional farts. It was like lots and lots of farts. I wanted to vomit and had to get up twice and stand in the aisle to get away from the smell. Also, I smoked my fake cigarette even though it's not allowed on planes (stupid, a stewardess said "they cause interference with the communications in the cockpit" and I was like "I'm glad you are a stewardess and not a science teacher").

Then I got my car and got into the tunnels of downtown boston and got lost because my GPS was being chooky (kind of cool actually, since last time I was there the big dig was still going on). I passed faneuil hall and remembered how to get to the highway (weirdly, I haven't been to boston since 1996 but I remember certain aspects of the city). Arrived at my hotel earlier than my original flight would have had me getting here so my bad luck actually ended up being good. But my room, unlike the calgarian hotel I stayed in last week, does not seem to have much in the way of heat. I turned the thermostat up to 75 and went to work out. It's now at 65 even though I was blasting the heat for the hour I was in the gym.

I will survive. I shouldn't complain, actually. Given what my dad is going through now these matters are incredibly trivial.