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Blue Christmas
It seemed such a good idea at the time.
"We'll fly out on Christmas Day itself," Grumpy explained. "Everything will be closed then, so we'll be there bright and early, ready to get going on the 26th."
We decided to do Christmas a little differently last year. We went to Memphis to spend Christmas with Elvis at Graceland! We'd been waiting at the gate for about an hour when it all started to go wrong.
"I'm sorry," said the agent at the desk, without an ounce of sincerity in her voice. "But the plane has been downgraded so 16 of you won't be able to get on."
Naturally we were among the lucky few. The lucky few chosen to enjoy Christmas at O'Hare airport. The irony was the weather wasn't an issue. It was the first clear day for weeks. No snow on the runway. No blizzards. No nothing, but more importantly no plane, at least not one big enough for all of us.
After a further hour or so arguing we'd got round to the "take it or leave it" speech from the Grinch at the desk.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. A day tucked up in a four star hotel close to the airport. We had nothing else to do at home anyway, and the car was tucked up in a car lot miles away. The next flight would be leaving at 7am the next day, so perhaps it would all turn out for the best. I was wrong.
"The hotel's nice enough, but it's not quite as exciting as I thought," I said, ducking as a plane flew within inches of our window.
Grumpy was busying himself trying to get the internet working in our room. I was hoping to moan to my facebook buddies and see what normal people were doing for Christmas.
"This is really boring," I grumbled. "And I'm famished. Some Christmas this is."
The clerk had explained as it was Christmas the restaurant wouldn't be open until 5pm So our Christmas lunch turned out to be a couple of club sandwiches served in our room.
As the afternoon wore on, it got worse. The planes grew more frequent, Grumpy was unable to get the Internet going and I started getting emails on my Blackberry from friends astonished we hadn't just gone back home. Finally at 5pm we went downstairs.
"Nevermind," said Grumpy. "We can have a nice meal in the restaurant with all these vouchers the airline gave us."
The restaurant was closed. It's Christmas, don't you know? No bar. Nothing.
"But you can have room service," said the receptionist helpfully.
"We had that for lunch," boomed Grumpy. "It's Christmas Day and I'm not spending any more time in my room!"
You know how people say private hospitals are just like hotels? Well when you're confined to your room, hotels turn out to be just like hospitals.
"Hang on," I said. "I've had an idea. This is what we'll do."
We ordered a bottle of wine and picked it up from reception. We drank it in front of the fire. All of it.
Then Grumpy ran up to our room and left a note for room service on the door. The waiter left outside our room on a tray. We picked it up, marched it into the darkened restaurant and sat eating it on our own. The waiters were less attentive than usual for an American restaurant, probably because there weren't any. But by then we were too drunk to notice.
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About Hilary: British journalist Hilary Decent moved to Naperville from London two and half years ago. Since then she has been working hard to re-establish her career on this side of the pond. In England she was a local newspaper reporter and freelance humor columnist for national magazines. She spent five years teaching international students English study skills at a British university. She now writes for several local publications. A self professed drama queen, Hilary loves the theatre and hopes to write more musical comedies following the success of her first one, Holy Neuteronomy! earlier this year. Hilary is complely bewitched by Naperville, and enjoys observing American suburban life from a wry British point of view. Visit her at www.hilarydecent.com.
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