From A to B...Adelaide to Boston

According to euclidean geometry, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Of course, for boats and airplanes,the shortest distance is the rhumb line following the curve of the earth. In my case, however, attempting to get from A to B, that's Adelaide to Boston, none of these mathematical theorems seem to be working. The airplane mechanical gods and the weather gods have conspired to cause cancellation after cancellation and delay after delay, interminable hours of waiting in long queues and rather circuitous routing. After traveling from Adelaide to Melbourne to Sydney, my Sydney-LA flight was canceled. Misinformation, disinformation and no information made for a frustrating, long day ending at 11pm at a Comfort Inn in a Sydney suburb. Another eight hour wait the next day at the Sydney airport and I was bound for the USA. The ineptitude and lack of follow-up on the part of the United Airlines crew in Sydney was inexcusable. United used to be my airline of choice … no more. I'm DIS-united.

I finally arrived in LA, tired and lame, but only a continent away from Boston and my mom and sister. Unfortunately, my rescheduled flight to Boston from LA via Denver was delayed due to “no plane” (hm....I thought this was an airline?), followed by a blizzard in Denver which canceled over 200 flights. They re-routed me once again … this time through Houston. Another six hour wait for a midnight arrival in Houston and a 0700 flight to Boston.

Frustration and fatigue have taken their toll. I'm grouchy, restless and exhausted. I've been in constant contact with my sister, Lin, in Boston and David back in Adelaide. In fact, Lin knows my flight schedule better than I do since she's re-arranged part of it on my behalf. Have you had days like this? Can you empathize with the emotional roller coaster I seem to be riding?

It took me 75 hours to get home. I shouldn't complain, I guess, since it took us 13 years to get to Australia, so 75 hours return is nothing. The raw and cold hit me like a slap in the face as I exited the terminal and headed to the slushy passenger pick-up area of Boston's Logan Airport. Lin spotted me before I saw her. What a relief!

My mom is hanging on by a thread. I'm here and I cannot change a thing, but at least I'm here.

Thanks to everyone for their comments, emails and support. You have no idea how good it feels to know that you're thinking of us.

FAQ - What happens when there's an emergency at home?

You forget all your plans, find the closest safe place to leave the boat and go home. We've done this twice before. We were in Portland, Maine when we received a call from David's mom that his ailing dad had died. We put Cups on a mooring, packed up and the three of us (including Jelly) were on a plane the next morning.

We were all provisioned and ready to leave New Zealand for Tonga when we received word that David's 92-year-old mom had fallen and broken her hip. Once again, Cups went on a mooring and we were back in the States in just a couple of days.

My mom is really sick. I'm going home.