The true, horrific story of my non-journey to San Francisco

• Wed Aug 11, 2.30 arrive in plenty of time for my 3.45 flight
• it starts to rain - heavily
• flight keeps getting pushed back
• 6.15, finally we're on board!
• 6.45 we push off from the gate but taxi for an hour, getting to the front of the line. I'm sitting next to a genteel, patrician old lady.
• 7.15 we're ready to go - #1 in line for take off - but wait, we're taxiing again - captain comes on the intercom with one of those "I'm sorry folks" speaches about how the wind and rain were just too much for him
• 7.45 we're shooting down a different runway nearing takeoff speed when suddenly we slow down, dramatically - it turns out one of the engines is overspeeding and we have to return to the terminal. Genteel patrician lady screams "Help". I don't think she likes flying.
• Twenty angry first-class passengers on their cell phones frantically trying to rearrange their flights. Harried flight attendants feed us, as we're stuck on the tarmac, while hungry economy passengers send accusing stares in our general direction.
• 9.30 we're still in the plane, waiting for a gate - fortunately I've booked a flight on tomorrow's 9.20 courtesy of our emergency, off-hours travel agent, and I have a room in the Hilton in Manhattan (all airport hotels were booked, or so my travel agent told me). Genteel patrician lady is swearing into the phone as she tries to find anything with wings that will get her home tomorrow, as well as a bed in which too rest her angry little body. She finds an airport hotel, so I call the same hotel, and sure there are beds. My Manhattan hotel is non-refundable. Who cares at this point - so now I have two beds for the night.
• 10.15 in the terminal. JFK baggage handling with American is sketchy, even on a good day. I decided to go to the hotel and check in, to make sure I get a room. You have to take the Airtrain, and then a shuttle, so...
• 10.45 I get my room. The one nice thing that happened all day - it's a King-Size non- smoking. I take the first of many taxis back to the terminal to get my bags.
• 11.00 Massive confusion - hundreds of passengers from tens of flights, and only two people dealing with all the complaints, no announcements, woeful looking San Francisco passengers following each other around at each new rumor about the location of our bags. Genteel patrician lady is busy strangling one of the baggage attendants. Until now I've managed to keep a philosophical attitude
• 12.45 a.m. Lose it as we're finally told our bags will be kept and put on our flights tomorrow. Ream out poor baggage attendant - the one with the strangulation marks left over from the genteel patrician lady.
• 1.00 a.m. waiting for the shuttle back to the hotel
• 1.20 a.m. still waiting. It finally arrives. I tear a new hole for defecation in the driver. Then apologize since it's really not his fault.
• 1.30 a.m. finally in my hotel room, no toiletries, no change of clothing. More importantly, no booze. Can't sleep, and don't have any of my medications. The first non-chemically adjusted night of sleep in over a year. Somehow, though, I do fall asleep and sleep a good 4.5 hours.
• Aug 12 7.00 a.m. shower and shave using toiletries provided by the hotel. Discover that shaving cream can be used as hair mousse quite effectively. Start the day in a civilized fashion with an all you can eat buffet breakfast at the Courtyard Marriott
• Managed to squeeze in a good workout at the hotel gym. Okay, I'm joking about that one.
• 7.15 a.m. take a taxi to the terminal. The traffic is completely stopped near the terminal so I have to walk the last 500 yards. In the terminal, I'm assured my bags will be on my flight. Only problem; my 9.20 flight is delayed until 1.00 p.m! Suddenly realize I left my sweatshirt in the hotel (I think!) With my cell phone on its last few minutes of battery power, I call the hotel and confirm it's there. So another cab to the hotel, pick up my sweatshirt, back to the terminal, where the traffic is even worse, so a 600 yard walk to the terminal in the sticky heat. I tell everybody my story, looking for sympathy.
• 9.00 a.m. realize I've left my book somewhere. Not a huge deal except it also contains my ticket. Phew! It was at American Airlines Admirals Club, where I'm now sitting, with four hours to kill . No sign of genteel patrician lady, thank god.
• God, all I need now is that another storm will hit around the time the plane is supposed to take off!
• And I'm supposed to fly to LA from Oakland tonight (I'm flying into SFO from JFK). I hope I make it, otherwise American Airlines owes me a night with Ben!