It's a small world these days. Most of us who've chosen to live an expat existence aren't particularly bothered. Technology puts us in constant contact with our home cities and hundreds of long haul flights a day can get us home. At the back of every expat's mind, however, lurks the same nightmare. What if something happens and I can't get home when I really, really need to?
Welcome to Christmas 2010.
This was always supposed to be a big one. As our relationship got ever more serious, it was a chance for my boyfriend and I to introduce each other to the towns in which we grew up (St. Louis and Copenhagen) and the friends and family there. A chance for us to meet the remaining special people in our lives. Those people had been planning for months, lining up a whirlwind of parties, dinners and special events.
Then things got more crucial. My mother landed in the hospital after her visit in November and has been there ever since. Things don't look good. Forget the holidays. I need to get to St. Louis for her.
But God, BAA and United Airlines seem to have other ideas. Sure, it's me and hundreds of thousands of others, I know. It's not easy for anyone. And at least I'm waiting in the comfort of my own home rather than the refugee camp that once was Heathrow. But that doesn't lessen the angst, the nerves, the nail biting.
My original Sunday flight was canceled. Because I caught it soon after the cancellation was posted (2:45 am, to be precise) I was able to get on another flight. So, if I'm lucky enough to have ended up on one of the 20% to 30% of flights that has been managing to get out of Heathrow, I'm scheduled to be on my way at 3:30 tomorrow. Piers' flight, however, was canceled this morning. And with the thousands more cancellations between my re-booking on Sunday and his need to do the same today ... there were no options left before the holiday. The trans-Atlantic is, quite simply, closed to new traffic until the New Year.
So tomorrow the weather and the airline industry's coping strategies will hand me a Hobson's choice. If my flight goes, I breathe a sigh of relief as I get to my sick mother's bedside, but leave my love alone for the holiday and abandon the big plans to introduce him to my family. If my flight is canceled, he and I are together, but my mother ... to whom holidays are precious things never to be missed ... is alone on what's likely to be her last Christmas.
It's out of my hands. I'll wait for fate to decide where I'm going tomorrow, and with whom I'm spending the big day.
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