Yes, I made it home. Only just. The jet lag has worn off, and the family are already taking me for granted again. All is normal in the world.

After sitting at the end of the runway at Madison airport for 2 and a half hours, I finally made it to Chicago. My flight to San Francisco was on time and everything was looking good. I had a couple of hours to kill, so I decided to grab me a Starbucks coffee and maybe a snack to last me until I was served dinner on the Air New Zealand flight back to Auckland.

But I couldn't find my wallet in my bag. Oh shit. I had put it in my jacket pocket the night before and then packed the jacket in my checked luggage. I had no cash and no credit cards. While the reality of that sunk in, United Airlines decided to delay my flight to San Francisco by 2 hours. Double oh shit. That meant that if everything went perfectly, I'd have 20 minutes to get across SFO airport to get my flight to Auckland. And if everything didn't go perfectly, and I miss that flight, I'd be stuck in SFO with no cash and no credit cards. A bit of a pickle.

As soon as we landed at SFO, I grabbed my bags and bulldozed my way to the door. I was first to deplane. And then I ran as fast as an unfit bastard can run (again) to make my flight. I sweet talked the security geek to get me to the front of the security checkpoint and then ran some more to my gate. I arrived panting and sweating at Gate 97 only to find I'd been bumped to business class all the way home. Let me tell you Business Premier Class is fricken sweet.

The Photo

I'll leave it to you to decide how I managed to get a photo of myself on flight UA507 Chicago O'Hare to SFO. I'm smarter than the average bear, so you'll have to be pretty darn clever to figure it out.