Meditations in a Philly Airport

I'm not a pilot or an air traffic controller, so I'll trust that when United Airlines canceled my 7:30 a.m. flight to Chicago at 8 p.m. on Sunday, it was for a reason that wasn't stupid. This is what I told myself when I realized last night that there were no more flights from New York to Chicago on Monday. This is what I continued to tell myself this morning as I boarded a 7 a.m. Amtrak to Philadelphia, as I ordered an Uber from the Philly train station to the Philadelphia International Airport, as I waited in the security line, as I walked to my gate, and as I sit here, now. I expected to be roaming around the United Center by 1 p.m., but, clearly, the universe and Mercury Retrograde had other ideas. So here I am, sitting in the Philly Airport, waiting for my 2 p.m. flight to Columbus, where I'll have a three-hour layover, before my 6:30 p.m. flight to Chicago. In order to suppress my bubbling rage at the current state of air travel and to distract myself from the fact that even if I could find a plane that's not being used right now, I'd struggle to fly it myself, I've been...thinking thoughts. Some might even call them, meditations. The Uber from the train station to the airport was short, quick, just like I thought my original 7:30 a.m. United nonstop flight to Chicago was going to be. The universe really does love to give you want you want, but not what you need. I love getting a bag of Cheddar Chex Mix when I go to the airport. But I didn't want Cheddar Chex Mix today. I can't remember the last time I didn't want Cheddar Chex Mix. I got a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. All things end somehow. In terminal C, there's a strip of outlets behind a Starbucks, but there are no chairs. We never let each other relax. I think it would be nice if, whenever we travel, we wear a little nametag that says what our dream vacation is. I actually do believe that clouds can perceive us. And that they make fun of us. My eyes are hazel. And when I see a pepperoni pizza? They become stars. Whenever I'm at an airport, I never look like what I envision myself looking like. What is this?? I can't believe some people don't wear helmets when they're bike riding. Wearing a helmet is the best way to not accidentally die! I've got to get out of here. But unlike Frank O'Hara, I will not be back!!!! Subscribe to Jezebel and follow us on Instagram and Twitter for continued coverage of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. Or, at the least, our continued meditations from different airports.