And I had no idea where it was.
We drove through the entire parking lot. Twice. At this point I imagined that perhaps I had been transported to another dimension, a hell dimension of snow, where I was being asked to pay penance for some crimes committed in a past life.
Somehow, of course, I found my car, and cleared the mountain of snow off it, and drove home to eat pizza and commiserate with my husband. I had made it, but I will never look at air travel quite the same way.
This year, I’m going into my trip with confidence. So as long as I can avoid Snowmageddon II, and don’t forget where I parked, I think I’ll be fine.
Just the same, though: pray for me.
EMILY F. POPEK is the assistant editor of The Daily Star. Contact her at email@example.com.