It often isn’t viewable because of weather.
I can well believe that.
Ok, so here we are,
back home in Asheville snuggled in our own bed at the Chicago O’Hare Fairfield Inn, sleeping in our clothes…
Thunderstorms hit Chicago in the afternoon - ahh, the Midwest in late spring! - when we were scheduled to arrive, and ATC stacked us up in a holding pattern for so long that we hit the nope fuel level (not enough to make it to Chicago plus another hour (?can’t remember for sure) of fuel for noodling around), so we doubled back to Des Moines. Where we were parked way out in the ramp somewhere, refueling, while a hundred of us tried to figure out if we’d make our connecting flights (we couldn’t.)
I managed to reschedule our flight for tomorrow early afternoon (man, the United app sucks) while Hubs found a hotel. $30 plus tip for maybe a five-minute taxi, din-din at a Longhorn Restaurant.
Guy next to Hubs puked into his airsickness bag on the surprise Des Moines - Chicago leg, while the woman next to me, who had knocked back two vodkas back-to-back at 11:30 am plus a third a couple hours later started not-joking louder and louder about “shots for Row 26” but did not actually go into withdrawal, which was good. Miraculously, no adults lost their chit, although the same couldn’t be said for 3-4 toddlers.
We get to O’Hare, and the flight crew couldn’t bring up our luggage carousel number, advising us to “go downstairs.” Where we found that only the people ending their trips at Chicago would get back their checked bags, while the rest of us would have our bags sent on the next flights to their destinations, whether they were going there or not, including the business trip guy who was supposed to go on to a trade show in Ottawa but was going back to Portland instead, as he was going to miss his client.
Ah, the rich tapestry of human life.