Friends, I was spoiled just a bit when my first business trip as a REAL ATTORNEY just happened to be ten days in Stockholm, Sweden. There were delightful little kanelbulle each morning, highlighted by fresh yogurt accented by lingonberry jam. A short train ride down a majestic avenue lit for Christmas to the harbor area of Strandvägen, where a prestigious conference center had been reserved for the arbitration hearing, replete with freshly cut flowers. Sure, it was hard work, but it was tempered somewhat by the thought of an expense account fueled dinner of reindeer steak and a glass of red wine at a fine restaurant, with perhaps chocolate torte for dessert. A stack of Swedish pancakes - freshly caught salmon? Sure, I'll bite.
Or perhaps a tram ride to Gamla Stan, the eminently walkable old town?
Contrast that experience with my latest 36 hours.
What should have been a straightforward out and back trip to Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania for a routine motion hearing became an odyssey through the hermetically sealed airports of the midwest. You knew nothing good was going to happen when at the Minneapolis airport, I got the first of three notices that our flight to Pennsylvania was delayed. Even more thrilling, in Detroit, we learned that Delta had conveniently cancelled our flight to Wilkes-Barre, with no possibility of getting on a later flight. After my boss successfully convinced Delta that, why yes indeed, his business associate had to accompany him, we successfully got on a flight back west to Chicago, where we would then go east again to Wilkes-Barre.
Naturally, as we reached the gate, there was no plane. And when the plane showed up - a half hour late - the cockpit was occupied not by pilots, but by mechanics trying to figure out what was wrong with the landing gear. Comforting.
Anyways, I spent 10 minutes in Chicago O'Hare inhaling a freeze dried, microwaved "Uno personal deep dish pizza," which I immediately regretted. Note to all travelers - whatever claim Uno makes to authentic Chicago style deep dish, especially in the context of some high school student hawking them at an airport - they are utterly and completely false.
Finally, we reached Wilkes-Barre, only to realize we had to wait 30 minutes for a taxi to pick us up for the 20 minute ride to the hotel. So, an estimated ETA of 6:00 or so turned into an actual arrival of 11:00 PM.
The hotel was your standard Ramada in a third tier city in a depressed area of northeastern Pennsylvania - dirty, covered in a sheen of grime, and possessing seemingly the only public toilets in downtown Wilkes-Barre. I was especially amused, when, as I sat in my suit waiting to walk to the courthouse, some kid walked out of the bathroom with a BMX bike in tow.
That night, I desperately wanted to grab a beer before retiring, but I had a task for work to complete first. I figured it would be easy to simply print a few powerpoints. No, no, I underestimated that. The Ramada "business center" consisted of three computers - two of which were apparently reserved for students from a local business college. Of course, which computer did the business students choose to use that night? They politely informed me that they were taking a timed online exam, so no, they could not let me just print a few things.
I would mention the microwaved home fries included in the "breakfast special," or the rubbery eggs, but that would seem like I was piling it on.
Did I mention the cigarette scent permeating the air - everywhere?
The return journey was no less uneventful - the highlight was surely the dash through the Detroit airport to catch our plane back to Minneapolis after (surprise) the plane didn't show up at the Wilkes-Barre airport until 50 minutes after the scheduled departure.
Can't wait for the next one...
