Though the trip itself was fab, the traveling was not. I was routed from Anchorage - Pheonix - Charlotte - NOLA on the way there. No logic whatsoever. On the way back, NOLA - Denver - Phoenix - Anchorage. Even WORSE. When I got to Phoenix we sat on the runway forever before deplaning. I had 10 minutes to run 22 gates. Asked the guy at the arrival gate if he could let them know I was on the way. He said no! I cussed him out (I was really tired) and sprinted, carry-on, purse and bag with cool masks in tow. Just made the flight home which took an extra hour due to turbulence and headwinds (so 7 hours!). Had no time anywhere to get food, and two of the flights were out of snack boxes.

This is where it gets bad.

I had let a friend of a friend borrow my car and left it at the airport for her. I expected her to leave it for me where I'd parked it, in the nice warm sheltered indoor lot, with the key in the same place. This was specifically because I'd left my coat in the car, worn sandals, and packed my heels. No boots or anything to take up space.

Well, I arrive in Anchorage at 1:30 a.m to find she's parked the car in the OUTDOOR lot. I drag my suitcase all the way across the parking lot through ankle-deep snow wearing sandals, only to find that the key wasn’t where it was supposed to be. I couldn’t find it anywhere, and after 15 minutes of shivering, searching and trying unsuccessfully to call her at 2 a.m., I decided that rather than perish in the car like the guy from “Into the Wild”, I would walk back to the airport and take a cab home. So I did. By that time I was nearly hysterical and my feet were frozen.

The moral of the story is: Never trust your friends, and always bring your boots!