My fathers’ bad luck continued as they were trying to fly from Alaska to New
Jersey. They were supposed to make a stop in Chicago, which is where my papa
used to live, but that’s not what happened. On their way on the first plane,
another passenger got really drunk, and started misbehaving. He was causing
problems for everyone, and being really rude, so the pilot had no choice but
to land the plane at a different airport to let him off. They even had to
have the police waiting for him there. The closest one was this little
airport called Southern Wisconsin Regional Airport. It wasn’t really built
for planes like that, so it took them a long time to get through all the
stuff with the police, and start trying to fly again. By the time they were
ready, they couldn’t leave anyway, because of a snowstorm that had formed
over Canada. If that guy had just not gotten drunk, they would have arrived
in New Jersey on time. Honestly, it’s kind of scary for me to think about,
though. They had to spend one night in Wisconsin until the storm passed, and
then they were able to fly again. By the time they made it to New Jersey,
though, the child they were going to adopt had already gone to another
family. They were too late. They would have to wait a few months longer.
They had to wait for me. I, for one, am glad that they did.
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