And so it begins...

And so it begins… 6am, a small town outside of Washington D.C. The buddy henceforth known as Tinkerbell departed for Union Station to catch an 8:20am train to Newark airport.

I woke early to the dulcet tones of my host mom (Miss Karen) giving me 15 minutes to get ready. We left early to beat the traffic to Union Station, unfortunately after about 5 minutes Miss Karen realized that she had forgotten her purse. We immediately u-turned to retrieve it and continued on our way, a few minutes behind. The street on which we were travelling, Georgia Avenue, would take us into Washington D.C. proper, but it was slow going with all the stop lights. We accelerated madly out of every red light until we pulled up outside the station at 8:12am. Upon entry to the building I heard the final boarding call for my train: Last call for train 152 bound for New York City. Miss Karen and I ran to the gate with my luggage and I made the train, wheezing and coughing, with only seconds to spare. As I settled into my seat the train pulled away from the station.

After a while on the train my buddy texted me that our flight to Turkey had been cancelled and after a few stops throughout Maryland and Delaware, my buddy joined me at Philadelphia.

And so it begins… 7:30am, near Norristown, PA. The buddy henceforth known as Major plans to catch a train to Philadelphia and another towards Newark airport.

Bzzzz. I awoke to my phone receiving a text. Have a super fun trip. I chuckled and began to respond, ending with a “P.S. this will be the last text for quite a while…” I hopped in and out of the shower, and while dressing checked Lufthansa’s site through my iPod. Flight 403… CANCELLED. I quickly sent out a few texts, beginning with the follow up to my previous text, “I lied, flight’s cancelled…”, and a “We’re in for quite a day, our flight’s status is cancelled” to my buddy. I told my dad, who had been waiting to drive me to Norristown’s Transportation Center, to catch a local train bound for Philadelphia’s 30th Street Station. I decided that I had no choice but to depart, and after a couple quick goodbyes I headed on my way to catch the local SEPTA train. I arrived in 30th Street Station without a problem, and went to print my ticket. “30 minutes ahead of time, I’m in good shape…” I thought. Then I checked the board. Gate 3. I promptly headed over to the gate. I was about twentieth in line, and when I looked back, there were over a hundred and twenty people, the line roping around the station. I called the Turkish professor, and he instructed me that we might have to stay in Newark until at least Monday. I boarded the second to last car as planned, and found my Turkey buddy. “Excuse me miss, is this seat taken?” I remarked with a grin.


-Tinkerbell and Major