It seems that whenever I fly to Ohio, something has to go wrong. My first flight was fine, except for the three screening kids around me. There was a boy behind me in a yellow shirt who I could tell sort of wanted to say something to me. But I kept to my book, Rose Madder, Stephen King. Very good book. The connecting flight in Minneapolis wasn't for another two hours, so I stopped and got some lunch/dinner and went to find my next gate. I sat down and saw the boy. He seemed nice enough, but I don't like talking to people on planes. You say your hellos, then there's this uncomfortable silence where you run out of polite questions and all you really want to do is find out what happens to his next victim. This yellow-shirted boy gets up and sits across from me. Turn out he's going to Columbus for an ultimate Frisbee tournament and then to interview for jobs as a post grad student. Studying soil. He then complimented my shirt. Saddened: I had worn the shirt to work a few days earlier (and had washed it--a pen leaked on the sleeve) and about eight people complimented me on it. Now this kid I have never seen before who got up the courage to talk to a complete stranger is complimenting this blue sparkly shirt. It is now my favorite shirt. Not because of him, but because I apparently look fabulous in it. OK, so they board the plane and I say good luck. He stands in line behind me, but I don't turn around. I mean, my book is getting really good and I'm not in the mood to make a new friend. As I'm waiting to have my ticket scanned, I watch a huge lightning storm outside. Oh, yeah, I forgot other places in the country see rain. We sit in the plane for a half an hour and the pilot comes on to say lightning struck the field and all planes are grounded for at least the next ten minutes. Oh, and did I mention there are three screaming babies around me. The couple next to me keeps shifting with every mind-numbing shriek. I look over at them.
"Sorry. I have bad baby karma and because you are sitting next to me, you must suffer as well."
"Oh, do you get this a lot."
"Yep. Last flight I had three."
"The same three?!?"
"Nope. It's never that easy."
It's at that point that the couple secretly begins to hate me. Yellow Shirt Boy is sitting two rows in front of me. I don't think there's anyone else in his row. I call my family to tell them I'm going to be late, which is really no problem. They left a car in long term parking and I was just going to drive it to Athens by myself. We were supposed to land in Columbus at 9:28. The captain comes on a few more times to say he's sorry but they're going to turn the engines off to save gas. Lindsay was walking the next day at 10 am. I am picturing myself missing her college graduation. An hour later the pilot comes on again to apologize for the wait. As soon as the storm passed, they had to let all the planes land that had been circling because they were low on fuel. Then they line up the planes that have been waiting for take off. I call Paul. Yellow Shirt Boy gets up to stretch. He looks at me and I think he wants to ask if I want to sit with him. I want to read my book. Actually, I want to be in Ohio right then, but that's not going to happen. Holy crap, they turn on the engines. We touch down at 12:05. It's another hour and a half to my sister's apartment alone in a van in the middle of nowhere with no street lights. Just drive in pitch black until a deer comes out and runs in to your car. Great. I get my luggage at 12:30 and Yellow Shirt and I exchange some more words. I hope his interviews go well. I hope he has fun at his Frisbee tournament. I hope I didn't come across as too cold. I arrive at Lindsay's apartment just after 2:10. She's walking home from the bars. My dad was sleeping on her bed (a single) and my mom was on the couch waiting for the call from me. Everyone is now awake. We chat for a while as I get situated, then go to bed at 3. We have to be up around 7:30 to get ready for the ceremony.

Lindsay is now officially an Ohio University graduate.

She is currently in Athens drinking one last time.