It’s hard to believe that exactly a week ago today, I was waking up in the Royal York Hotel in Toronto and repacking my carryon to have it ready for the flight back to Boston.

Hard to believe because the long week back to reality makes the trip seem more and more like a dream. It even makes the person I was–and felt like I has a taste of becoming–never existed. A friend of mine said that means that the vacation was good.

This last post is going to be short because I spent most of the day sitting in the airport.

I’m glad I woke up early because I didn’t want to pass up the chance of taking a bath. I love taking baths but don’t really take as many anymore in my apartment since they changed to the new hot water heaters. I really don’t get enough hot water to completely fill a tub with hot water. So whenever I’m in a hotel with a bathtub or spending the night at a friend’s house with a bathtub, I take advantage. (Shout out here to Jane, who has the BEST bathtub!)

So I sat in the bathtub for at least a half hour, then took a shower, and got dressed. I did my weekly Saturday call with my mom. Then I headed out for a quick and cheap breakfast.

The night before, I had looked up bakeries and breakfast places, but nothing was open before 10. Is that because I was downtown? Is that because it was a Saturday? Have I been spoiled by the fact that Worcester has countless donut shops and diners open at the crack of dawn?

In any case, there was a place I knew would be open.

So I headed around the corner of the hotel to . . . a Tim Hortons.

I loved how when I rounded the corner, there was a sign on the contruction site (they seem to be redoing the side entrance to the hotel) there was a sign reassuring me that a Tim Hortons wasn’t far away. I’m not judging. I think people in Massachusetts would break into hives if there wasn’t a Dunkin Donuts on every corner. Sometimes you can stand outside one and actually see another one.

After eating, there wasn’t much to do but brush my teeth again and finish packing up my things. My ride to the airport was coming at 9.

This is one of the things I should have asked about. There was no need for the ride to come at 9 after they changed my flight from 12:30 to 2:30. I knew that before the trip, and I should have requested the change. However, I think I was too busy thinking about the other changes I had questions about. For example, I had been scheduled to do high tea and the sleigh ride at the Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise on the same day back to back, which I wanted to change. Then there was the closing of the Johnson Canyon Cliffwalk area.

It didn’t really matter though because I know I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed being in the hotel much longer than I was. I am pretty anxious on travel days about being at the airport on time. I even left my room at 8:30 just in case there was a line in at check out which there almost never is.

I sat in the lobby for a while which gave me an opportunity to look around a bit more. There wasn’t the crowd there was yesterday, so I didn’t feel as odd taking pictures.

I didn’t like it much better than I did they day before. It was too dark for me, and despite the lack of people, still felt like things were too close together. They have a nice display of the registry book that Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip signed on one of their visits.

Around 8:50, I went out front to wait, avoiding the bellmen because I was almost completely out of Canadian cash, so there was no extra money for tipping them. A driver got out of a car to ask my name, but he wasn’t waiting for me. He pointed to the car in front of him and told me to ask that car, which I did, and that was my driver. He had gotten there early, too. Thus, I got the the airport super early despite there being an accident on the highway. The driver was very nice and very curious about the train trip as people are. When I went to tip him (with the money I had set aside for this purpose), he said that the gratuity had been included.

I’ve spent time in the Toronto airport before. I have had layovers there the last two times I had flown to Korea. I have really enjoyed both times because of the set up at those gates: outlets and ipads at the ready. I was not in the same terminal, obviously, this time.

I got there at 9:40, so I was going to be there a LONG time today.

I also learned something new. You cannot check a bag earlier than four hours before your flight, so I had to find a place to sit until at least 10:30. I was fortunate to be all the way at end of the terminal where it looks like they have extra space for another airline but which is now just a space for seats. It was clearly not planned because there were no shops or electrical outlets or bathrooms. They just had an area with those phones that you could use to call airlines or car rental places. Just a very large area with seats. I sat and read webtoons.

Once I could finally check my bag, I entered security. I only had a carryon because I try to pack so I don’t have to check bags (unless I’m going to Korea because then I’m usually staying longer AND I know I’m going to want to buy a lot of presents), but I decided to check my bag this time because it was a direct flight, so the chance of my luggage being lost was low. As the day went on, I realized this was probably the best decision of the morning.

I have Global entry, so I was able to go into a shorter line.

I’m confused by airport security because the rules are all a mashup of different times in the past. It used to be consistent, but when I left the states, I didn’t have to take off my shoes and I didn’t have to take out my laptop only separate the toiletries. This time, I had to take off my shoes and take out my laptop and separate my coat and purse from the rest of my belongings, but they didn’t make me take out toiletry ziploc. I wish they’d make up their minds.

Then there was the trek to my gate. Gate F96. I labeled these pictures “hiking in the airport.”

Here is the second place where I was really happy that I did not have my carryon (first being security). You know you are walking a ways when every once in a while, there is a friendly sign saying “only fifteen more minutes” or “only seven more minutes.”

There was one corner that contained an area where they set up a mini shop, and I was tempted to stop and buy a snack because the longer I walked the more I felt like there might not be anything to eat in the terminal. I’ve been in those new terminals where they really don’t have anything yet. However, I carried on.

Even after getting to the terminal, the gate was almost at the very end.

And then the wait began. Right around 1:30, the delay notices started happening. My flight was supposed to leave at 2:30, but as you can see, it went from 2:30 to 3 to 3:30 to 4 to 4:30. I’m glad I wasn’t trying to get a connecting flight.

But did you also notice the other change? After the final delay, we also had to change gates. I really felt badly for the woman with the kid in the stroller and the family with the elderly parents in wheelchairs. It was another long hike from F96 to F82.

I did want to comment about the bathroom in the terminal. Usually, airport bathrooms are broken into sides with two rows of stalls and sinks making a wider bathroom. The bathroom in this terminal was long instead. The other interesting thing was the lights above the stalls. Red light indicates that the stall is occupied and green indicates it’s empty. I guess they were trying to eliminate the need to bend down and see if you see feet.

My flight was pretty uneventful accept for the fact that my seatmate was a man who completely lacked repose. Or should I say he had the repose of a four year old. He couldn’t sit still. He jiggled his leg, he called the flight attendent multiple times, he woke me up (yes I still fell asleep) to go to the bathroom (ripping through the curtain into first class), and he kept dropping things on the floor by accident which he would attempt to try to get.

It was a relief to get off the plane. I didn’t even bother putting my boots back on until I was inside the terminal because I wanted to get away from him as quickly as I could!

After putting on my boots, I went to pick up my luggage, and I didn’t have to wait more than five minutes for the Logan Express Framingham bus. I was cheering.

My good humor lasted until I reached my car in the Logan Express parking lot, and my key wouldn’t open the car door. I initially assumed that the battery in my key fob had died. So I immediaely tried to think of anyone I knew in Framingham who might be able to buy me one and bring it to me on a Saturday night.

I texted my friend, Eric, who questioned whether or not I also had an actual key in my key fob. His wife’s key has one. New thing I learned. Yes, there is a key in there! Who knew? (okay maybe all of you did, but I didn’t). Unfortunately, that didn’t solve the problem because it wasn’t the key fob. My car was completely dead.

I called AAA and was helped pretty quickly by a very nice woman who asked my make and model and my location. AAA now sends you a text that includes a link that you can click to follow the truck that has been sent to you. You can see in real time where they are and how long it will take to get to you. I didn’t know this because I haven’t had to use them in years, but it’s a great service. I felt fine because I was in a parking garage in Framingham. But I’ve called from the side of the road, and such a map would have given me a lot of comfort.

I didn’t have to wait long for Fernando-G (name on the text) to arrive. I popped the hood for him, and then he looked worried. He didn’t seem to have known ahead of time that my car is a hybrid–even though I told the lady on the phone. He told me that his jumper cable wouldn’t fit on my battery because it was so small. He said he was going to call his boss.

More problems. One of the things he asked his boss was whether they could just replace the battery, but AAA don’t carry those small batteries. He was worried. We started talking about the possiblility of towing the car home. I wondered how much of that would be covered under my AAA membership since I live twenty-two miles away from Framingham. I started calculating in my head how much it would cost just to leave the car there for a couple more days rather than towing it while he called his boss back.

During this time, I was getting check ins from Eric. He offered to come get me and take me home if I needed it while I decided that if they were going to tow the car. I had decided to have them tow it to Framingham State and park it where I usually park my car. I’d then get a ride home with him. On Monday, I’d get a ride to work with the many people who also live in Worcester, and call mechanic from work.

However, I did not have to do any of this. Because Fernando was worried. Fernando did NOT like the idea of leaving me hanging here on a Saturday night, knowing that nothing would be open on Sunday to service my car. He looked at me and said, “I’m going to call my Uncle.”

I nodded in meek complance. I mean what was I going to do? It’s not like I could really go anywhere. It wasn’t his fault that they didn’t carry the kind of battery I have. It’s not common.

We didn’t have to wait very long. We heard a man calling out something in Spanish long before we could see him. As soon as we heard that sound, Fernando looked down. Embarassed. I asked him what was wrong, and he just said “That’s my uncle.”

He shouted back to his uncle and minutes later a man appeared in a sweatshirt (while the rest of us were dressed fro the twenty-degree weather) bringing along with him a smiling tiny man (who was also dressed for the weather) carrying jumper cables.

He proceeded to chastise and tease his nephew in Spanish. I don’t know Spanish, but I can tell trash talk when I hear it. His nephew looked like a nephew being both teased and haranged. Finally, the uncle says to me, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what they’re teaching these young people. I’m ashamed that my nephew doesn’t know how to do this. I will take care of this for you.”

He then proceeded to take out a knife, flipping open the five-inch blade. Fernando gave me a quick look of concern, but I wasn’t bothered. Everyone in Alaska carries a knife of at least that size. I did, too, until I used it once after moving to Michigan and people looked at me the way Fernando was afraid I was looking at his uncle.

The uncle used the small curved tip of the blade to go under a lid on the battery that I didn’t even know came off. One little twist, and the top popped right off. He looked at what he could see now, asked me what year my car was, and when I told him, he focused on one section. He stuck the very tip under something else that I could not see, and a rectangular piece popped out causing the side to fall off, exposing a much bigger space–where they could now connect the jumper cables. Both Fernando and I looked on in wonder while the little guy with Uncle just grinned.

Uncle told me to get in car while he grounded the cables. Then he told me to start it. I could see Fernando holding his breath, but the car started right away. Uncle came to look at my dashboard where we could see how the electricity was flowing. He told me something that I don’t remember because I don’t understand car speak. I was just relieved that my car was running again.

He told me to turn it off and start it again. After that he teased his nephew again in Spanish, and then said to me, “Take this down. My name is Hector. Here is my number.”

He then proceeded to tell me that everything should be fine, but he wanted me to drive the car to Worcester and when I got home, turn it off, wait a minute, and then turn it on again. He wanted me to call him whether it turned on or not. He promised to come to Worcester if it didn’t.

All I could think of was that poor Fernando was going to have to listen to this story at every family gather for at least four years.

I got home and did exactly what he said. Since you all know that I’ve been working all week, you have probably assumed that everything is fine.

Eric said he felt sorry that my trip ended on such a note, but I thought the whole thing was hilarious and oddly warm. I told him, this is really what my life is like–stressful and a little wacky.

The rest of the story that I’ve been sharing here was really more like a dream.