It’s Like Purgatory, Without Heaven

Oddly enough, visions of sugarplums and fairies are not dancing through my head as I enter my sixteenth hour of delayed travel this Christmas weekend. After ten hours of hopeful anticipation at Baltimore-Washington Airport, I have concluded that claims of an “on time departure” are as dubious as the constitutional jurisprudence of the airport’s namesake. I have since moved on to O’Hare, where the gate agents’ continued detente of “wait and see” provides some hope for weary travelers. From the mouth of a wise man, “Happy birthday, Jesus. Sorry your party’s so lame.”