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When Bad Things Happen. My 50 Hour Journey Home

The anticipation was palpable as I prepared for my long-awaited journey back to Columbus, Ohio after an excruciating 20 months of separation. I was truly nervous. Unbelievably, at 67 years old I have never actually flown by myself. Having traveled to multiple countries throughout my life I have always done it with Leslie by my side. But what could go wrong?

In case you do not know the trip was planned for me to attend my 50-year class reunion—an event that promised to bring together cherished memories and long-lost connections. It was a perfect opportunity to visit with friends and family, and I eagerly anticipated the three weeks I would spend in my hometown.

Upon arriving at my childhood home, my parents enveloped me in warm hugs and tears of joy. It was a heartfelt reunion, and I relished the comforting familiarity of their presence. The real joy, however, lay in reuniting with my three grown children: Mindy, Arthur, and Andrew. Seeing them after such a long time was an overwhelming experience, and we spent hours catching up on each other's lives.


During my stay, I was blessed to spend quality time with my grandchildren as well. Honesty, Preston, and Bailey filled the house with laughter and vibrant energy. Their youthful exuberance was a reminder of the joy that family brings. And then there was the delightful surprise of time spent with my great-granddaughter, Amelia, whose innocent smile warmed my heart. The love and connection that permeated those weeks were priceless, reminding me of the importance of family bonds.

The class reunion did not disappoint. I got to see old classmates exchange stories and laughter, reminiscing about days gone by. It was a testament to the enduring friendships that had stood the test of time. I reveled in the shared nostalgia and the chance to reconnect with friends who had been an integral part of my youth.

Amidst the joyful moments, however, the looming shadow of my journey back cast an unexpected pall. The flights with American Airlines, initially estimated at a manageable 14 hours, quickly unraveled into an endless odyssey of frustration and exhaustion. The series of misfortunes started with my departing flights and the bewildering inability to check in online. Arriving at the airport, I discovered that my boarding passes were only available for the first leg of my trip. It made no sense that I needed to navigate back out through security and collect the remaining passes in Lisbon, causing unnecessary stress and confusion.

Despite these early setbacks, I held onto hope that the return journey would be smoother. Alas, hope turned into dismay as I once again could not check in online and my first flight experienced a substantial delay, causing me to miss my connecting flight in Boston. The ensuing hours were spent standing in endless lines, desperately seeking alternative flights. Exhaustion took its toll, and I began to question whether I would ever make it home.

Eventually, I was handed a new itinerary that consisted of not one, not two, but three flights. The complexity of the new arrangements felt overwhelming, and I clung to the hope that this torturous saga would soon come to an end. I was granted a voucher for a hotel and a meager dinner allowance of $12. With a weary heart, I checked into the hotel, hoping for a few hours of respite before the final leg of my journey.

In a cruel twist of fate, fatigue got the better of me, and due to my hearing loss, I unintentionally slept through my alarms and missed calls from my wife, Leslie, who had been anxiously trying to wake me. It was devastating to realize that time was slipping away. Panic set in as I scrambled to get ready, barely managing to make it to the airport with mere minutes to spare.

While chaos ensued, Leslie tirelessly made arrangements on her end, booking a hotel in London at our own expense since the airline refused to provide a voucher. The mounting costs added to the frustration and fatigue, but there was a glimmer of hope that things would finally fall into place.

Stepping foot in London felt like a reprieve from the tumultuous journey. The hotel offered solace and comfort, restoring a sense of normalcy. Finally, the pieces began to align, and the remaining flight flowed seamlessly. It was a stark contrast to the arduous experience I had endured thus far.

As the wheels of the plane touched the familiar ground of Madeira, a surge of relief washed over me. Nuno, our favorite taxi driver, stood waiting at the airport, a warm smile lighting up his face. Returning to the enchanting island felt like a homecoming—a sanctuary away from the trials and tribulations of my travels.


Though my heart ached at the thought of leaving my family and friends behind, there was solace in the realization that life is transient. The experiences, love, and memories I had gathered during this tumultuous journey would forever be etched in my heart. As I settle back into the serenity of Madeira, I know deep down that I have found my new home—a place where I can savor life's precious moments and create new memories.

And so, as I gaze out at the breathtaking landscapes of Madeira, I can’t help but reflect on the twists and turns that have brought me here. Life, it seemed, had a way of testing our resilience and reminding us of the power of love, family, and the beauty that lies beyond the challenges we face.

Life Is Short, We should Have Done This sooner.

Or should I say, “It’ll Be Fun.”

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