"Welcome To Duluth, Minnesota"

...were the words of my smart-assed pilot. Some sort of wiring problem was discovered after about two hours of flight, necessitating a turnaround and emergency landing in Duluth. Because the Duluth airport is about as technologically advanced as Fluffy, my deaf and retarded dog, we were unable to deboard and were forced to stay on the plane for a total of around 11 hours. During this time I encountered many dangers: the Angry Old White Man (a threatening foe in any environment), the Idiotic Flight Crew (characterized by the "Just an update to tell you there's no new news" update), and the extremely off-putting seatmate.

My extremely off-putting seatmate was first played by Old British Woman with Small Seizures. As odd as it sounds, this actually helped me be calm-- not only did it put my situation as a chubby young male in perspecitive, but her husband helped her with her seizures in such a calm and loving manner, it was obvious he had been performing this duty for years and no longer thought twice about it. In the face of such good-natured love, especially while listening to the song "Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens, it was hard to be mad...

...until I engaged Old British Woman with Small Seizures in conversation, and found out how much she hated the rich people in business class. Hey old lady! If you're so much better than the rich, how come you're going to die soon? Huh?

... or until she was moved to the business class she hates to much, only to be replaced by a new enemy-- Farty McBadjoke. I could tell when she released her noxious wind, wind that smelled vaguely of warm cheese, because she'd always try to compensate by engaging me in conversation (example: "These delays would be better if airline people didn't suck! HAHAHA!" Simply painful).

The best part of what appeared to be no more than a nine hour lube job? When the Ghostbusters showed up. You heard (um, read) me. Though they were wearing silver, Dr. Evil-esque jumpsuits and displayed little, if any, of Dan Akroid's trademark wit, they each carried something that looked eerily like the original Proton Pack.

A fixed aeroplane notwithstanding, after 11 hours on the flight, Northwest was no longer able to legally fly us to London, and we had to return to Minneapolis via bus (perhaps the Ghostbusters crossed the streams). Why couldn't we stay in Duluth? Because every hotel in town was full due to the gay pride festival. Is that not a giant kick in the ass/the best thing you have ever heard?

Ah well. To review my travels so far:

7:00 pm Saturday, Sept. 2nd-- Depart from Minneapolis.
7:00 pm Sunday, Sept. 3rd-- Depart from... Minneapolis. Fuck a duck.

And now... Another Fabulous Travel Moment:

While at lunch with my father before my first departure, I had the following conversation...

Dad: "How much cash are you taking to Europe with you?"

Me: "I have seven dollars on me."

Dad: "...Jesus Christ."