Yesterday was one of those days when it’s hard to tell if your life is cursed or blessed.  On the one hand, we just caught our first flight despite longer lines than expected for 6:00 in the morning, and were on one of the last flights allowed to take off for Houston, landing site of wanna-be hurricane Eduoard.  Despite hangups and delays, we made it into Denver, and even found a hotel for the night.

On the other hand, we were supposed to be flying into Colorado Springs yesterday, not Denver, so when our connecting flight was cancelled out from under us the waiting rental car and hotel in Colorado Springs were rather superfluous.  When we finally made it into Denver, we found that our bags were still in Houston, except one, which had managed to find its way to Colorado Springs.  And, of course, Denver’s hotels were booked solid.  We did find a temporary place to stay, but only after almost two hours of phone calls and searching from the airport, during much of which time some kind of storm siren was going off so we had to shout into our cell phones.

And the luggage?  It was delivered to the Con hotel–at 3:00am, and for some reason that meant they had to call us at our temporary hotel so we could talk them through the process of dropping off our bags.

Perhaps the weirdest part was that I predicted each hang up before it occured.  Which is not to say I’m psychic, unless psychic powers entail nothing more than reading signs as they flash before the face.  It was more like observing a train wreck in which each particular of the crash plays out in slow-motion along its trajectory.  Let’s hope the momentum has played itself out and we can now proceed with our week at a more comely and sedate pace.

Nothing wrong with hope, right?

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