A Christmas Story

With the power of my new MacBook Air and the dust of Christmas travel settled, I thought I’d recount our trip to North to celebrate Christmas with Michael’s family.

December 23

3:15 p.m. :: Complete Air Canada web check-in for our December 24th flight to Mackenzie (via Prince George) and sign up for text updates.

3:33 p.m. :: Start three loads of laundry in the basement laundry room.

3:35 p.m. :: Receive the following text: “Flight AC 8201 CANCELLED.” 

3:36 p.m. :: Call Air Canada. Find out the next possible flight is on December 26. Thrust the phone at Michael to avoid verbally abusing the AC phone attendant. Begin stuffing our suitcases with wild enthusiasm. 

3:40 p.m. :: Determine to fly standby tonight. Call for a cab, none of which are available for at least two hours. Make a panicked call to my mom and stepdad for a ride. They happily concede. I rejoice.

3:43 p.m. :: Collect our wet laundry and deposit it in garbage bags, flinging sheets and towels on any available counter space. *Carefully* rip all Christmas ornaments off the tree.

3:46 p.m. :: Stop and pray, at Michael’s suggestion. No doubt our best spent minute in the past three days.

4:00 p.m. :: Three suitcases and two carry-ons, a dishwasher running and two runs to the garbage bin later and my stepdad, Chester, arrives.

4:15 p.m. :: Called Michael’s parents to let them know the plan, they suggest the overnight Loser Cruiser Greyhound. The snow is coming overnight. Okay, we say. Book us. They land us the last two seats. We readjust our coordinates to the First and Terminal train station.

4:45 p.m. :: Chester suggests a bite to eat at a Mexican spot on Victoria. We dine on the best tacos and fresh salsas ever. A welcome breather in what promises to be a long night.

5:45 p.m. :: Arrive at Pacific Central and unload. Have ourselves a scare. Our bus, it turns out, is the only one leaving that night and no tickets are being sold on the premises. I go for a Starbucks run and make a deposit at VanCity, the only errand that doesn’t get scrapped.

7:30 p.m. :: My feet begin to freeze. A combination of bad footwear choice, cotton socks and the shoulders of snow throughout the city. Plus I am fighting a cold. I go in hunt of socks. My only find: blue children’s Christmas socks at the train station gift shop. I cough up the $6.99 and am the better for it.

9:30 p.m. :: Our scheduled 8:45 bus departs. We are making it home for Christmas.

Fast forward two days, multiple Christmas festivities, a half dozen games of Skip-Bo, a lunch of turkey sandwiches and you’ll find me happily staving off the -30 degree weather, sitting in front of the Crook’s trademark 15 foot Christmas tree watching a dusting of snow pass by the windowpane.    

::  A BLESSED CHRISTMAS TO ONE AND ALL  ::