LHR is no longer my friend.

This morning, I fully intended to write a post waxing nostalgic about London Heathrow. About how it's my home sweet airport and where we always fly through, and about how the first thing we used to do on our layovers coming back from Ethiopia was run to the McDonald's (because when you're 12 you think McDonalds is the epitome of what you're missing in America), and how that McDonald's later was turned into a Pret a Manger, which was sweet because by that time we had matured and realized that Pret > MickyDs. But I digress.

The point is, I'm a little angry at Heathrow right now. Alright, I suppose it's not Heathrow's fault, but all the daggone snow that's relentlessly beating down on the poor little United Kingdom, which caused hundreds of cancelled flights and thousands of stranded passengers. I was aware of this situation this morning, and of course a little nervous, but as our British Air flight was leaving at 8:25pm, there was nothing we could do but go for it. Throughout the day, ba2go.com kept telling us that despite all odds, both our flight from Dulles to Heathrow and then onto Nairobi were confirmed. Yet as we pulled off the exit towards Dulles, BA oh so kindly TEXTED ME that our flight was cancelled. 

But again, what can you do? We waited in line to be rebooked, but moved about twenty feet in an hour and a half. Luckily, my parents were hard at work in Kenya (despite it being 2am there), communicating with our travel agent in Canada, and they finally were able to rebook us on a different flight. Unfortunately, it's leaving on Wednesday -- meaning two more nights in the States, waiting pointlessly around, as Christmas draws ever closer. The other problem was...where do we go for these two nights? As my sister's boyfriend had driven us to the airport, we didn't have our own car. So we staked out a nice little spot on the floor and, surrounded by our four bags, one carry-one, 2 purses, and 1 awkwardly long, skinny box (containing a hammock swing. it's a Christmas present.), we tried to figure out who to call who could come rescue us. Thankfully, our cousin was up to the challenge. So here we are, stranded at the cousins' house, with a whole day to kill before attempt #2 at Going To Kenya For Christmas. And not going to lie, I'm a little antsy and frustrated. As my sister said, "I shake my head at this day." But you know what? It's completely out of my hands. And at least I'm sleeping in a real bed, and not an airport floor.

On a brighter note, Let it Dough :]