This memory I wrote is pretty recent. Just last year while on my way to Minnesota for Jason’s Minnesota Celebration of life. 
On January 19th, 2024 ,what was supposed to be a simple flight turned into a three-hour ordeal that left me stranded in Chicago, miles away from everyone I loved.
The first delay was only thirty minutes. No big deal, I thought. I have time for dinner. Maybe a deep-dish pizza. My stomach growled at the thought, and the smell of garlic and melted cheese drifting from a nearby pizzeria didn’t help. I ordered a large margarita pizza with big ripe cherry tomatoes and basil sprinkled on top. I promised myself I would try to save some for the plane ride to Minnesota, I ended up eating the entire thing with no regrets as I waited.
Then came more alerts. My phone buzzed like a relentless mosquito. Phillip called after I texted him an alert that would have me landing in Minneapolis after midnight.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I forced calm into my voice. “I’ll be fine. I might grab a drink before the bar closes. Or maybe I’ll rent a car and drive.”
“Dana, don’t you dare,” he said firmly It’s dark, you’re upset, and you’ ll never make it to Tim and Emily’s like that. Stay put, okay?”
I sighed , knowing he was right, “Okay. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Later, Jon’s wife Angel called.“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Just keep walking the airport and waiting.”
“Can they reschedule your flight?”
“The flight’s still coming, just delay after delay. All I can do is wait”
“Keep waiting and take care. Jon and I are driving so we hope to see you tomorrow afternoon.”
Angel’s sweet southern voice did set my mind at ease a little. “Hope to see you then.”
Their voices helped, but the loneliness lingered. I opened Find My Friends and stared at the map. Tim, Emily, Chad, Jeremy were the closest to me, yet still over 300 miles away. Phillip was even farther, and I knew he’ would be asleep soon. Who else could I talk to? I didn’t feel like striking up a conversation with a stranger. I was tired, frustrated, and alone.
That was when I found the dinosaur. A towering skeleton from the Field Museum display stood in prehistoric patience as I paced the terminal. I started talking to him, griping about the delays, confessing how tempted I was to rent a car and drive, admitting I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do it safely. The dinosaur didn’t judge. He didn’t answer. But in that moment, he was the best friend I had.
After finishing my one-way conversation with the dinosaur, I walked back to the gate. My phone finally buzzed with a definite landing time: 11:40 p.m. That meant I’d land in Minneapolis at 12:55 a.m. I texted Tim and hoped he could still pick me up. If not, I’d take an Uber.
I plopped down in a seat by the gate and almost drifted off, only to be jolted awake by the boarding announcement. Grabbing my suitcase, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever want to fly alone again. But then I thought about the dinosaur and how our silent conversation had eased my mind. Maybe I could fly solo again, as long as there was a dino in the airport.