Tuesday morning I left Portland to fly to San Jose at 7am in the morning. Awful. It was a last minute flight change and my only option if I wanted to make it in time for work… Alas, it was still awful. Like typical Portland there was some slight rain. After a minute of take off we hit some really bumpy air that had me clawing for my arm rest. As our pilots ascended and the plane leveled out I looked out my window to see we reached the top of the clouds. We had risen above the storm.

I felt like a lightbulb went off in my head… “Oh, that’s what that means!”

…

I have heard the saying many a times but never really given it a second thought. It is so difficult when we are in the midst of chaos to stay calm, think clearly and rise above. Naturally, we prevent ourselves from doing that and instead stay in the storm or perhaps are graced with a moment of serenity while in the eye of it. But when we take that second to push to the top we get the most amazing view of it all. When flying do you look out the window to see the vast land of clouds? It is so beautiful and never ending. I want to jump out of the plane and roll around in its fluffiness. There is no fight worth winning that beats the view of the “rise above the storm”.

Thanks to my recent flight and cheesy blog I am going to take more care in being a riser… a little more “HOT” and a little less “HEAD”. But maybe (just maybe) I will soak in the storm while I’m in it so the view at the top is just a little bit sweeter.

Header image courtesy of Vince Versace.

Luckily my first flight was on Southwest so I got online and almost fainted when I saw the next flight went up $230 in price.  So I got on the phone to call and was told that if I get to the airport in 45 minutes then I could get standby for the next flight but I had to hurry.  I was simultaneously running out the door and calling for a cab and praying for grace.  I was met at Southwest by a good sized pacific islander man. Between him and the other girl working, a petite asian girl who looked about my age, I was glad to have him.  Men tend to a be a bit more sensitive to emotional women.  Us women have no mercy on each other.

He started working it all out and getting my on the 10:10 direct flight to Midway in Chicago but an error popped up and he had to call is counterpart up for help.

Oh ****.

Like I foreshadowed earlier, she was not having my frazzled state and I overslept excuse. Her response was something like… you were misinformed (glare)… you have to pay the extra $ (glare)… you obviously don’t understand what I’m saying. (glare)

As soon as she walked away the larger man looked at me said he would call his supervisor and then I broke out in tears. Not just little tears. Alligator tears. I looked like Paris Hilton when she got sentenced to 48 minutes in jail. I did not use these tears to get what I wanted, like you might be assuming. I was literally distraught. But like most macho men, his Achilles heel is a woman’s tears.

Supervisor came and together they worked through the system as I hiccuped on the other side of the counter. Standby on the following flight it is.

Grace.

As I left I gave two huge thank you and left the mean girl out. It was my feeble attempt at sticking it to the man.

More to come of my weekend in Chicago but until then, look at my shameless and unsponsored plug for Zuca luggage.

Follow my adventures at twitter.com/danidotnoah