Avoiding a Thrill Kill

Maybe the fates were protecting me from the thrill kill cult in Oklahoma. My running clothes were packed in my roller bag, and that's where they stayed throughout a series of ludicrous travel snafus.

First, my flight to Houston was delayed an hour and a half, ensuring that my two-hour layover would be obliterated, eliminating my time to catch dinner, and forcing me to rush from Terminal C to Terminal A in record time.

Luckily, my connecting flight to Tulsa was also delayed, but just enough for me to use the bathroom and check in with my pregnant wife before boarding.

Meanwhile, back in Cleveland, my roller bag had been gate-checked through to Tulsa, where it would be waiting at baggage claim. Only, it wasn't among the circulating suitcases when I arrived. The bags in Houston were unable to match my speed from terminal to terminal. United would deliver my luggage to my hotel later that night.

I got to my hotel room at 10:30 p.m. local time. I was starving. The only option I saw was a McDonald's, and that didn't sound good at all. The hotel clerk suggested a Chinese restaurant that delivered, but they closed at 11. I would have to call them ASAP.

An hour and 15 minutes later, the STONEDEST delivery man alive arrived at my door and nearly dropped my General Tso's chicken as he tried to hand me the bag. I don't know why I tipped him as much as I did. Maybe I felt bad that he was making a delivery almost 45 minutes after his work was supposed to be closed.

The food was pretty good, but it was after midnight before I finished. Digestion made sleep difficult, and so did the loudest AC unit known to man. Just to make things worse, my bag arrived around 1:30 a.m., and I had asked the front desk to call me so I could pick it up no matter what time it was. In retrospect, a dumb move.

Morning arrived too soon. A run was the last thing I wanted to do. I was in no mood to drive to find a good route. I settled my stomach with a decent continental breakfast and gulped down coffee to keep me awake for the trade show I was in town to attend.

To make sure I had time to eat something before my flight home yesterday, I got to the airport extra early, putting the final nail in the coffin vis-a-vis my chances to run. It was a short trip, but it felt exceptionally long.

Considering the craziness of the trip, my fortune cookie from Monday's late meal delivered the perfect coda:  "If it seems the fates are against you today, they probably are."