Missed Buses

I had an overnight layover in Miami on my way back from Trinidad (I stayed in a hotel instead of the airport which was nice and totally worth it). My flight from Miami to Chicago the next day was delayed, and it was looking like I was going to miss the bus back to Champaign. I was upset at the added hurdle because it’s already a long day of traveling, and in addition to the bus to Champaign I would still need to take another bus and then walk to get to my apartment.

At 10:05am I was on the phone with Peoria Charter while waiting for my bag in the airport 10 minutes before my bus was supposed to leave. The next bus to Champaign that had any openings left at 10:30 that evening, but there was a 12:50pm bus that I could take to Peoria. “Great, let’s do that.” I hung up the phone and my bag appeared on the conveyor belt. My original bus was scheduled to leave in 5 minutes.

I thought about running out there while calling the lady back, hopping on it and being on my way, but the idea of getting picked up in Peoria by my mom and letting her feed me had already won me over.

I had two hours to wait for the bus, and while I was waiting there was an announcement that there would be a Catholic Mass in the interfaith chapel in the airport. Oh yes, that is for me. I didn’t even know that the airport had an interfaith chapel, but I went there and the Mass was lovely.

I got on the bus to go to Peoria and a woman sat down next to me. I asked her where she was from, and she said “No English only French,” so I asked spoke with her in (extremely rusty) French. I still don’t actually know where she was from, except that she was born in the Congo and her father is a university professor somewhere and she was going to Bloomington to see her sister. She was confused about her stop so I asked the driver some questions for her and she used my phone to call her sister.

My mother picked me up in Peoria and fed me a big salad for dinner, which was just great since I’d spent over 24 hours eating things like chips and granola bars and cookies. Also we had wine.

This morning my mom and I went to my grandparents house and had an early lunch there before my mom drove me back to Champaign, dropping me conveniently at my doorstep.

I complain a lot to Kevan about the fact that we live so far away from each other. I tell him that it sucks and I am so ready to not live 2,500 miles apart anymore. I want to be frustrated at God for setting us up for a prolonged long-distance relationship, though I guess I know better than that. I tell myself that God probably wants to teach me something by it, but of course I won’t know for five or ten years what it is. At least in the meantime I can try to remember that it’s not always terrible to get from here to there, and missing a bus might not mean the end of the world, and maybe my original plan, even a small one, isn’t the best plan in the end.

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