Do you believe in holiday miracles? I do, after one brought me home

By Jacob Fullmer

November 26, 2007 | Next time I go home for the holidays, I'll fly the plane myself.

My Thanksgiving travels, like so many others', burned this desire into me. But I also received a sufficient flight lesson in the process.

Days before all of this, I heard from friends and family about how much time I needed to spare so I didn't miss my flight. Anyone who has heard the same stories I have can understand the anxiety surrounding holiday travel.

A note to airport personel: It is just so comforting to hear directly from you this really is the worst time to travel. Thanks. I needed to hear that.

Everything looked beautiful at the gate in D.C. And then our plane touched down in Denver.

Karma seemed to be saying with a smile, "Denver, Colorado, I'd like you to meet my friend Jake. Jake, I'd like you to prepare for travel hell. Have a great Thanksgiving in a hotel!"

A text from my mother brought the bad news. My flight had been canceled I needed to hole up in Denver until the late afternoon on Thanksgiving. What mom should have written was, "Thanks for trying to fly home for the holiday, sweetie. It means so much for you to spend two days traveling through airports in a futile attempt to see us. We'll be thinking of you when we say grace."

Maybe that was too long of a text-message but mother is still learning how to appropriately text.

If I had seen all this coming, I would have rather stayed in my Virginia apartment all week with a handful of Hungry Jack turkey dinners to accompany me and a James Bond Marathon. All I was looking forward to now was HBO and Denny's take home in a poorly lit hotel room. Oh, but I do love their maple syrup.

However, as a creature of habit, I refuse to accept my surroundings for what they are.

I decided there was nothing short of one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse to keep me from carving the family turkey.

I worked out a flight to Salt Lake City. My plans allowed no time to spare. If everything worked out just right, I would be able to catch a four-hour shuttle from the airport to my hometown. Things were looking pretty good. A little inconvenience but nothing I couldn't handle if I had a few No Doze and an energy drink.

Wait -- What's that you say Mr. Flight Attendant man? I can't understand you over the horrible speakers and my rage. Oh, you say our flight is delayed? Just enough so I can miss the last shuttle home before Thanksgiving? Thank you so much! There go the holidays . . . again.

It's at this point time stopped. I then learned why military personnel are also called servicemen. An Air Force pilot was headed from Alabama to Southern Idaho just like me.

Not only did I get a ride home but I managed to work an entire flight lesson out of him on the way. After all, what else do you talk about while hitch hiking at 2 a.m.? Besides, I want to be ready for the next holiday season. I'm pretty sure I could only handle a C-130 at this point but I'll work my way up.

Holiday miracles -- I love 'em. Thanks, Brent.

Jacob is junior in journalism and political science wishing there were somehow a way to travel home for Thanksgiving and still have turkey sandwiches for the next month. And turkey salad and soup and . . .

MS
MS