The Boubacar 2/1/2008 (Late Edition)PAWTUCKET, R.I. -- I report to you today that there really is such a thing as Travel Hell, but it's more of a fluid state of mind and matter than an actual place. (OK, so it's more like Travel Heck, since nobody died.) A 300-mile drive from Denton, Tex. to Houston that started at 12:30 a.m. Central, punctured and punctuated by a carefully-timed 20-minte nap, allowed us to get the rental car back to Hobby in time and make our 6:30 flight. Too bad there was no flight, since Chicago airports had placed a moratorium on new landings. The weather map looked like a blue goo-monster had swallowed up most of the Missouri Valley Conference. Hope everyone there's okay. We were rerouted through Philadelphia instead, and the complete clusterhump that the U.S. airline system had devolved into meant an extra hour's worth of delay on the layover. When we finally got to Providence, we had to wait an extra two hours for our luggage to catch up with us, and when it did it looked like it had been riding on the top of the plane instead of in the cargo hold -- battered and soggy, its ballistic nylon pushed to the very edge of its waterproofing. Bally swears that he'll never fly Southwest Airlines again, but that's just the "air rage" talking. Our devil-deal states that we have to make posts here every weekday, so we're dropping in to say hello. But we'll catch up tomorrow with a special Saturday Boubacar, something that's never been done before in the long history of the site. Until then, travel safe and sleep tight, Hoops Nation. |
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