my Dad was in AK in WWII and was sched on flights out and was bumped or the flt was cancelled for several days. One day he overslept and missed the flt. He went to reschedule and asked if there were open spaces on the flt he missed (Murphy's law, the answer is yes)? Sure, the plane was still there. Crashed on take off. Ya never know.

I have a "worst ever" travel home story to tell. Do I post it here?

Sure Zman. Tell your story.

Thought I would give you one from the homefront.
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The Empty Chair

She was supposed to be home last night in time to go to Midnight Mass with us. Bad weather had stalled her flight out. The only presents left under the tree were in a small pile so carefully wrapped in greens with just a touch of red. After fifteen months of brown, tan, and more sandy tan, green was now her favorite color.

My little Honey Bunny was coming home. It was great to hear her, "Oh, Dad," when we talked two days ago. It reminded me of the "Oh, Daddy" that had been her cry not that many years ago. She didn’t like me to call her Honey Bunny in public, starting when she was about six I think. I never let that stop me.

It was a family affair in the kitchen. Everyone was cooking something, warming something, pouring water, cola, wine, milk, or in one special case, chocolate milk. All the places were set, everything ready, and my wife whispered, "We better start without her. The little ones are getting hungry."

There was an empty space at the adult table. Honey Bunny was going to be graduated for the first time from the "children’s" table in the kitchen. The Aunt’s were with us, so both of my other daughters were to sit out with their children instead of forcing Honey Bunny to baby-sit. Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandchildren, just not at mealtime. I had sampled the ham and it was the best I had ever cooked. Of course it always was better than the last time. It was a matter of pride.

Normally, the wife does the praying at the holiday meals. I just sneak bits off my plate knowing no one is looking. This year, I felt the glad tidings warranted my active participation.
"Lord, I know it is strange to hear my voice today, most days actually. However this is special because we are not just celebrating the birth of your son, we are celebrating the homecoming of our baby. So Lord, thank you for the blessings you have given this family. Please protect our boys and girls serving our country and away from home this Christmas day. Please let them feel the prayers and hopes for their safe return for next Christmas. Oh, and I promise you God, I will only have one piece of apple pie today. Amen."

Noise, conversation and laughter came from the kitchen as the children’s table swung into action. It was quieter in the dinning room, not just because we were all more mature, but also because there was an empty chair at the table.
When the doorbell rang, I threw down my napkin and jumped to my feet with an exclamation, "She’s home at last!" Her sisters beat me to the door but not by much. It was a disappointment to see an Army Lieutenant standing on the front steps. Then suddenly, I felt cold and sick. I felt my wife’s hand slip into mine. We all just stood there and stared. No one moved to open the storm door or even motion him in. He reached out and opened the storm door himself.

"Mr. and Mrs. Raymond," he said looking at me? When I nodded he asked if he could come in. We stepped back to give him room but no one spoke. He stepped inside, taking off that stupid looking black beret as he entered.

"Sir, Ma’am. I am Lieutenant James Walters. Your daughter, Sharon, invited me for Christmas dinner."

I got over my shock enough to say, "Welcome, Lieutenant. Welcome to our home. She didn’t tell us she had a friend coming." I took his head cover and directed him to the dinning room. The ladies were already putting out another place and moving one more to a bench in the kitchen so we could have the chair. We took our places and asked the young man to sit down. The wife filled his plate with everything, sat back down and we all just stared.

He started eating as if he were starved and then he noticed that no one else was eating and all were staring at him. He snapped to attention right there in his chair. "I am sorry. I should have waited for grace," he said. He was blushing.
The wife told him to relax and eat, we had prayed before he got here. I started nibbling but stared even harder at the young man. What was he to Honey Bunny? I listened to him politely answer the ladies questions. There was a rise in the noise level from the kitchen so I assumed that at least they were having fun in there. But there was an empty place beside that young man and I wanted it filled. For some reason, I just didn’t warm up to Mr. black beret.

He had slowed the pace of his eating so that he could work in an answer to some of the questions flying at him. He was still tucking it in pretty well. I lost my appetite. He had met Honey Bunny in Iraq. She had treated a small wound for him. Well he was in a line outfit and he really didn’t see that much of her. She was at the hospital unit. He had come home two weeks before her.

"Well where the hell is she," I demanded. It just burst out of me and at that moment I didn’t care if it was polite or not. I wanted my daughter.
"I’m right here, Daddy." There she was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Her sisters were right behind her, grinning like demons. "I sneaked in the back door while Jim was distracting you at the front. I’m home. Ta-da!" She waved her hands up over her head and bowed to the room.

After we all hugged, kissed, and made sure she was in one piece, I tried to get her to sit at our table but she refused. That’s when old Dad found out that his baby had grown up.

"Dad, leave that place empty. Let it stand for all my friends still over there, the ones that couldn’t get home for Christmas. I belong where I have always belonged, at the kiddie table. No, Jim. I told you that to love me you have to love my family. Now’s your chance!" With that last salvo she was back in with the other "children" leaving Jim with us. I wished I was out there as well.

I didn’t pay much attention to Mr. Beret Walters, I was thinking about that young lady and what she had said. I was looking at that empty chair and thinking about all those other families looking at empty chairs and praying they would be filled next year. I was thinking about all those families looking at empty chairs that would never be filled again. I made an announcement.

"From now on there will be an empty chair and a place setting not used at Christmas in this house. Honey Bunny is right. But it needs also to be part of our prayer for those who will never come back as well."

The Aunts, the wife, and young Walters just looked at me for a minute. Then the wife said, "Amen!" I felt good for a moment.

"Mr. and Mrs. Raymond, I would like to marry your daughter." All the women burst out in a happy babble, which included laughter and tears. He just sat there and looked at me. I think I glared at him. My baby was back in the doorway. I glared at her as well. There it was, the reason for all this stress, she wanted to marry this kid.

"I’ll have to think about it," I said. "Excuse me." I took myself past my girl. I did give her a hug but left all the rest to whatever. I went down the hall to my office and shut the door.
Later, after the cleanup I went and stood in the doorway to the dinning room. I looked at the chair that had stood so empty. My little baby. I saw her in that chair through all the years, growing into the woman she was now. Then I thought about all those other fathers looking at all those other chairs. I knew what the answer had to be.

I walked back to the living room where everyone was relaxing. My Honey Bunny was sitting on the floor in front of the Christmas tree with the Lieutenant. She was his Honey Bunny now. I walked over to them and stuck my hand out to him.

"Welcome to the family and Merry Christmas."

12/19/2004 © Don Crandall
There will be an empty chair at our table this Christmas. (There was an empty chair at our Christmas dinner. While this is a work of fiction, the Easter holiday is coming up. It would be good to remember our men and women at the feast.)

Dare I hope this means Greyhawk's coming home?

There's aSubway near the flightline at BIAP now? Sweet!

Good luck getting home.

Here is my worst travel home story.

I was in SE Asia in 71-72. When it was time to come home, I was at Nakon Phanom AB, Thailand. The night before I was to leave the guys took me on my "brown bean" tour (going away party, "green bean" is a party for newbees).

Early the next morning I'm in the pax terminal, hungover, and there is a driving rain outside (it was monsoon season). The C141 that made the round robin of Thai bases to pick up folks made three passes at the runway but couldn't land. So now what? About 2 hours later a crazy C130 driver made it. We all ran out there, kissed his feet and got on the plane. He took us to Bangkok, we needed to get to Clark AB, Philipines to make our port call. Since there were many flights between Bangkok and Clark, I had little trouble getting on one. When I got to Clark, I found out I had missed my port call and was on the space available list. If you had been to the pax terminal at Clark during this time period, you would know it was wall to wall people. I spent the night sleeping on my bags in the terminal.

The next morning I got on a DC8 which was to be my freedom bird. Every seat filled, we went from Clark to Yokota AB, Japan so one guy could get off and one guy got on. From Yokota, we went to Anchorage arriving at 2 AM. With nothing open in the terminal, we spent 4 hours waiting for refueling and a crew change, but no one minded, we were back in the USA! From Anchorage we went to Travis AFB, CA. I was sitting in the back row of the plane with 200+ guys in front of me. Unbelievably, my bags were the first ones off the plane. I grabbed my bags, threw them in a taxi, and told the driver to get to the San Francisco airport.

After passing through the gauntlet of protesters (we had to travel in uniform then), I rushed to the NW ticket desk (I was headed for Fargo, but knew I'd have to go to Minneapolis first). The agent said we have one to Minneapolis in 20 minutes or one in 2 hours. I told him to put me on the first one and ran through the terminal to get to the gate. I made it. I was seated between two elderly ladies and smelled like a goat after 35+ hours in the same uniform.

Finally, we're ready to go! The plane backs out from the gate and then pulls back in. Maintenance problems. As we are waiting for the maintenance problem to be fixed, the "2 hour" plane to Minneapolis (gated next to us), backs out and leaves. After about 4 hours of sitting on the plane, we are finally airborne. We make three stops before getting to Minneapolis, but when we get there (about 11 PM), we can't land because of fog. We are diverted to Sioux Falls, SD.

Another night sleeping on my bags in the terminal. The next morning I get on a twin engine prop airplane (the commercial version of a T29). The distance between Sioux Falls and Fargo is about 350 miles. We make three stops enroute. When I finally get to Fargo, my Mother and finacee are there to meet me. They just can't understand why all I want to do is go to bed :))