I blame it all on American...

Airlines.

My flight, slated to take off at 11:17 this morning, was delayed. It was delayed because the flight crew was coming in on another plane, which was somehow delayed. We finally boarded around 11:25, and got halfway to taking off when my captain was speaking, telling me about some hydraulic pump not working in some engine somewhere on the craft. He told me we were going to have to check it out.

I felt kinda like I was at my doctor's office and he wanted to check out some malfunctioning part of my knees.

We taxied back to the gate, and parked, and we were allowed the use of our cellphones and any other electronic equipment we cared to use, so I turned on my phone. It was just after noon.

This was just part of the bump in my road.

After sitting there for about 30 minutes or so, my captain was speaking again. This time, he told me that they were going to have to replace said hydraulic pump. Estimated time for repairs was between one and two hours. After a few more minutes, we were told that no other planes were available, so we weren't going to leave anytime soon. We were given the option of being able to leave the craft, but we were required to take any and all luggage with us, in case the repairs were done early, and we took off without you.

He made that point very clear- that you would be left there if you weren't on the plane.

My first thought was that I was hungry. The two McDonald's hash browns I had for breakfast definitely weren't going to last, and I never did get a chance to visit the duty free shop, because I was running late. I was running late, incidentally, because the CTA Blue line had a train stalled one stop before the airport. I learned of this, as usual, after I was already on the Blue line and stopped between stations, far from any cab that might stop for me.

I digress.

I didn't get off the plane. I sat and read my book and called Wendy to let her know that I was delayed. I didn't know when I would get in, but I would leave my cell on in case she got the message. Then, I went back to reading.

I got bored, so I did the crossword in the crappy magazine. Well, most of it. I got bored.

I went back to reading. The older couple a few rows ahead managed to book another flight, and I considered following them. I thought better about it. I figure I can probably still get something out of American for the whole fiasco. Then I realized that 93 down was fiasco, so I went back to the crossword for a few minutes.

It didn't take.

Finally, they let everyone back on the plane. Finally, we were heading for take off. Finally, I was on my way to lands north to see some of my favorite, or should I say favourite people in the world. When I finally got here, I had two things on my mind: food and bathroom. Fortunately, I found both, and Wendy, rather quickly. I handed her my book, "can you watch this for a moment?" She agreed with a quizzical look, "remember the Brooklyn Bridge."

While it was actually the Manhattan Bridge, not the Brooklyn Bridge that I was trying to refer to, Wendy knows well enough that that's code for 'I really need to pee.' There's a story there, of course, that's been visited before. We're not going back there now.

Anyways, after all those delays and traffic and everything, I finally got my hamburger served with peanut butter, and let me tell you, my friends, it was fantastic.

So the summer of Dave is on tour again, this time in lovely Toronto. When I find time to blog, I will. Promise. Oh, and I got a pimple today, which I am also blaming on American Airlines.

Thank you, and goodnight.