26 Hours in Phoenix, 1 Shirt

Things were going so well on my trip to Phoenix yesterday. Lines at SJC airport moved swiftly, our flight boarded on time and departed on time, we arrived on time in PHX, my ride over to the hotel in Tempe was uneventful, and I got a fairly nice room at the hotel. I unpacked my clothes for the next day, hanging them in the closet so the wrinkles would straighten out, and then I realized: I'd forgotten to pack a shirt. 😱

Oh, I was wearing a shirt. It's not like I was running around topless. But I wore a more casual shirt for a travel day than I would wear to visit an executive at a bank. And what if that one shirt got noticeable dirty or sweaty being worn for a second day?

Well, here I am on day 2. I'm re-wearing my shirt. It's not a disaster. I'll see how under-dressed I am when I meet this bank exec later today.

26 Hours in Phoenix Becomes 28. Then 26.5. Then 28. Then 27.5.

My on-time flight to Phoenix yesterday was an anomaly. I thought about that as things worked so smoothly— I'd better enjoy this, because it's not the norm. (Except I forgot to pack a shirt.) Because usually this is how things go when flying Southwest:



Today it's back to normal. I got a text as early as 11:16am that my 6:30pm flight was delayed. At first it was a 2 hour delay. Then it became a 30 minute delay. Then 2 hours again. Then 1 hour. Then 90 minutes. The inbound aircraft is in the air now, so that 90 minute delay should hold steady. Thus my 26 hours in Phoenix becomes 27.5, and I won't be getting home— as in, home-home—until almost 10:30pm.

Ugh.

And I've got a full schedule tomorrow starting with a 7am meeting.

Well, at least I get to kick up my heels at PHX airport. But I wish I could kick them up at home, in bed.