It's just another Thursday morning, you finally finished up a major presentation that took up most of your time at work that week and the weekend is finally in sight. You're more excited than usual because your long-awaited trip to Disney World is just two days away. And because you were a travel agent in a past life, everything has been perfectly planned. You made flight arrangements, booked a hotel, bought park tickets, rented a car in Orlando so you can bop around town while you're there... Heck, you even set up a day-by-day itinerary because you're the best goddamn travel agent control freak ever. You're looking forward to warm weather, some fun rides and a couple of days away from the office with friends.
So close, yet so far.
You've been hearing whispers all week about some snow coming your way, but you're not concerned. You'll be on a plane and in 80 degree weather before any of this becomes an issue... Right?
Suddenly, the weather reports are changing from a few innocent flakes to full-out blizzard conditions. Airlines in the tri-state area are canceling flights left and right and you know that, even though it's two days away, it's highly likely that your Saturday morning flight will not be cleared for take-off. You spend hours on hold with your airline trying to change your flight, but everything is booked. All flights in the next 48 hours leaving from Philly, Boston, New York, Baltimore, even DC and going into any airport in Florida; Orlando, Tampa, Miami, Jacksonville (you get the point, right?!) are booked solid. Nothing is available.
As the day winds down your blood pressure starts to rise. All the planning. All the coordinating of hotels, flights, car rentals, park tickets are down the drain due to a fucking snowstorm. Your options at this point seem bleak. As you start your commute home you receive notification that your Saturday morning flight has officially been canceled by your airline.
It seems that no matter what you try to do, your vacation is slowly slipping away. And to rub even more salt in the wound, meteorologists have appropriately named the incoming blizzard, "Winter Storm Nemo." Assholes. This is the last straw. You will not let them take your vacation away from you and mock you mercilessly by naming the storm after an adorable Disney character. Oh, the injustice.
In an act of complete depravity you send the following message to your would-be travel companions:
"I know I am being deranged and completely desperate right now, but let's just rent a car, leave tonight and drive to Orlando."
You word it carefully so when your companions completely freak out at this suggestion you can laugh it off as a joke. You realize that your traveling buddies are just as desperate as you are when one of them writes back:
"I am not 100% against that."
And so, it is done. You rush home to start packing and at 10 PM you start the drive to pick up your three co-pilots.
1 car. 4 people. 1,100 miles. What could possibly go wrong?
It seems that no matter what you try to do, your vacation is slowly slipping away. And to rub even more salt in the wound, meteorologists have appropriately named the incoming blizzard, "Winter Storm Nemo." Assholes. This is the last straw. You will not let them take your vacation away from you and mock you mercilessly by naming the storm after an adorable Disney character. Oh, the injustice.
In an act of complete depravity you send the following message to your would-be travel companions:
"I know I am being deranged and completely desperate right now, but let's just rent a car, leave tonight and drive to Orlando."
You word it carefully so when your companions completely freak out at this suggestion you can laugh it off as a joke. You realize that your traveling buddies are just as desperate as you are when one of them writes back:
"I am not 100% against that."
And so, it is done. You rush home to start packing and at 10 PM you start the drive to pick up your three co-pilots.
1 car. 4 people. 1,100 miles. What could possibly go wrong?
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