It was supposed to be so different. It was supposed to be a rousing tribute to indomitable spirit, adventure and camaraderie. It was supposed to be about the Craft Brewers Conference, about trendy craft beer bars filled with perfect looking Californians, of parties overflowing in brewers and over 140 San Diego beers on tap, of a late-night bus ride to a grungy rock club to punk out with the Ska boys and a swanky World Beer Cup gala dinner with all the glitz and glamour of an Oscars ceremony.*
But it somehow went horribly wrong when thunder clouds rolled in from the west over Chicago this afternoon and closed the city’s airport, causing my United Airlines plane which was already on route to the windy city to be diverted to Indianapolis, turning a routine sub-four hour flight into a plus 10 hour one.
I waited in a stage of ever-increasing anxiety as the air traffic chaos that followed the storms stalled the captain’s attempt at taking off four times. I watched with a growing sense of frustration and finally defeat as the hands of my watch ticked around to the time my connecting flight to Stockholm left. Rather ironically exactly on time.

If you gave away a free six-pack of Ingrid, an iPad 6, a ticket to The Avengers and a date with Scarlet Johansson you might just get a queue this long. Maybe.
As I trudged out of the gate at Chicago O’Hare’s Terminal one four hours too late I didn’t think things could get much worse. Until I saw the line to United Airline’s Customer Service Desk and realised it could.
For six and a half hours I stood in that line, without food, water or a single toilet break. Finally I was told by an assistant clearly tired of breaking bad news all night that there was only one seat to Stockholm left (via London) leaving at 3.50pm the next day. I was also informed that all the local hotels were now full and I faced the simple choice of driving over an hour away to find a proper bed or to try and make the best of things on one of the Terminal’s light blue plastic gate chairs. With little say in the matter I accepted the tickets and headed off to find some food to eat, only to discover the restaurants had shut a few hours before and would not open until 6am.
And so here I now sit at 2am as the day’s earlier storms have returned to light up the Chicago sky and shake the windows, eating a Hersey’s Chocolate bar and drinking a Minute Maid juice I liberated from a nearby vending machine, wondering how I am going to fill the 13 empty hours that lay ahead of me.
My company is my fellow displaced travelers, aimlessly wandering up and down the empty terminal halls, staring into the windows of shuttered shops to pass the time. And the nice chap with the thick Chicago drawl on the public address system repeatedly telling me that the City of Chicago is offering stranded passengers free pasta in terminal three and not to leave my bags unattended (this wouldn’t be a problem I’ve muttered to him under my breath as neither I nor my airline can find them anyway).
I’ve therefore decided given my predicament and lack of sleep that my stories from San Diego should be written another time.
For now I’ll try and line this plastic chair with the blankets handed out by airline staff and grab a few minutes of shut-eye and dream of home and the mountain of Bacon and Egg McMuffins I’m going to order in four hours……..
*Actually I can’t see Jean Dujardin sporting a goatie, tattoos and a T-shirt with the slogan ”You Look Like I Need A Drink” at the next Oscars ceremony. But relatively speaking it was an extremely well orchestrated event.





















