Last week was really something friends.  And that would not be something good.  After my last post, Sara, Eva and I all came down with a violent form of the stomach flu, also known as norovirus.  I would not wish that on my worst enemy.  I will spare you the details but after 48 hours I could barely get on my feet again and contemplate eating something plain as a slice of apple or a baked potato.

Of course, we had a vacation to get ready for.  Somehow we managed to get our bags packed, ourselves showered and as travel ready as we could.  Our trip was scheduled months ago and we had all been looking forward to flying down to Palm Desert and sitting in the sun for Spring Break.  Weak, but determined to rally, we drove three hours to the Bay Area, and Ubered to the airport for our flight.

Which was cancelled.  All other flights to our destination fully booked until the next day.  The airline personnel seemed insane to me.  Their solution was to offer us flights to totally different destinations, hundreds of miles from where we wanted to go.  How about San Diego, or maybe Phoenix? one helpful idiot suggested.  Um, no, we want to go to Palm Springs…?  

I was so disheartened, you can't imagine.  We girls were all on our own because my husband had decided to pack the car and drive the 8 hours to the resort and pick us up at the airport.  We had thought the flight would be an adventure for Eva and would spare us from carrying luggage.  So we had nothing with us other than our handbags.  

Honestly, that had never happened to me before.  I was prepared to slink away with my tail between my legs at this obstacle, and come back as directed the next day.

As luck would have it, my son Ahren happened to phone me to say Hi right in the middle of this crisis.  He became incensed on our behalf and proceeded to tell me exactly what I needed to do. 'Mom.  You need to make a fuss.  You are miles from home, traveling with a small child.  They need to do something for you.  They took your money and are not providing the contracted service.  Go back and speak to someone in authority.  They need to provide you with a hotel, transportation to said hotel and food vouchers".

I followed his advice, with the exception that I played the pity card and not the anger card.  I finally spoke to someone over the age of 18 who had some authority (and who gave a *%#@ about our situation).  We ended up with a room at a local hotel, transportation to it, and food vouchers.

We arrived at our hotel and discovered it had been taken over by Prom Night for a local highschool, but decided to make the best of it and view it as entertainment.  We survived a rather noisy night, but were on our way at 5:00 the next morning.

We have arrived, somewhat worse for the wear, but finally all is well.