How Did I Get Here? A Five Act Debacle

Act I:  Blizzards

I have many phobias - one of the biggies on the phobia list is and has been fear of flying.

Unfortunately, we were doing lots of flying in late 2003 - looking for a job for my husband, EJ, that would repay the obscene debt he had accrued at Georgetown (thank goodness they had rejected me or else we would have been even deeper in the student debt hole) and provide us with a more livable lifestyle.  At that time, he was working copious overnight shifts and insane hours, and was often referred to as Snuffleupagus, i.e. my imaginary spouse.

On December 6, 2003, the job search was taking us to Maine.  I was quite confident we weren't going - snow was falling in Philly, and several inches had accumulated before we even boarded the plane. Everybody knows that even the glimpse of white shuts Philly down.   PANIC - our plane is called to board. I immediately refused to get on the plane, and was pacing in the jet bridge, insisting that EJ go alone. Furthermore, I had not consumed any alcohol, and surely I could not board this plane in a snow storm sober. His embarrassment level was through the roof,  but only escalated as the pilot came to speak with me.  In almost baby-talk, the pilot explained to me that it was safe to travel, and assured me that as the father of three (he showed me a photo of his three smiling children), he would not fly the plane in unsafe conditions.  He then walked me onto the plane, and had the flight attendant provide me with a beverage of my choice - alcoholic, obviously.

Further panic set in as the plane was de-iced - that process still mentally cripples me.  Then off we went.  We bounced all of the way to Maine, and upon landing, I was given a set of wings from the same flight attendant who liquored me up.  We were the last flight to land at the Portland Jet Port before it was closed due to the now blizzard conditions.

Apparently, we had not listened to the weather report, because we headed to the lovely Old Port area in Portland for a leisurely lunch, and then decided to drive to L.L. Bean's Flagship Store in Freeport - a good 20 minutes from Portland, and another 30 minutes to our final destination.  We were certainly well prepared in our rental car, which made a compact car look big, complete with nearly bare tires.

By the time we got to L.L. Bean snow was coming down hard.  I mean, it looked really pretty - L.L. Bean in the middle of Freeport all covered with white, fluffy snow - lovely.  After shopping for a bit, we came to our senses and figured we better get the f--k to our hotel.  As we traveled the highway, we watched well-equipped SUV's careen off the roads - what were we thinking screwing around in L.L. Bean like that?!  We were from Philly - we didn't know what to do in real snow storms!  No car shovel, no windshield scraper/brush, no clue where we were going - nothing.

We managed to get to the hotel, and were snowed in for 2 days.  25 inches of snow fell.  The hotel ran out of food, alcohol, and other necessities.  I felt like I was trapped somewhere between The Shining . . .

and Alive . . .

It was all bad.

Then, Monday morning rolled in and it was business as usual. Mainers dig out and they just move on. Blizzard done, off to the interview, and then onto The Blackwatch.  Spoiler - the Blackwatch had nothing to do with Scottish dry goods.