Going back to Albany for more training.

I recently had the pleasure of flying from Ontario to Albany, New York. That’s a trip that really tests your faith—in airlines, rental car companies, and your ability to survive on long flights without food.

It all started bright and early, because apparently, airlines think the best way to prepare you for travel is by depriving you of sleep. I wake up at a time no human should ever wake up and drag myself to the airport.  I catch the flight and it lands in Las Vegas.

The plan was simple: a quick connection through Las Vegas then New York, right? But Vegas had other plans for me. Bam—engine failure! 2 hour delay!  And here’s the kicker: I could literally watch the repair guys working on the plane from inside the airport. It’s like a live-action version of “How to Fix Stuff...Poorly.”

After two hours, they announced again that it will be another two hours.  Guess what? It ended up becoming a seven hour delay. Seven! They never fixed the plane.  Instead, they hijacked another plane headed to San Antonio.  Oh gawd.  I’m sitting there thinking, “Is this plane ever going to take off, or should I start paying rent here?”

By hour five, I started questioning my life choices. By hour six, I was pricing out jobs as a baggage handler because at least they don’t get stuck like this.

Meanwhile, because it’s Vegas, there are slot machines everywhere. I watched people lose money while I lost my will to live. I’m sitting there with my sad little bag of M&Ms, thinking, “At least I didn’t just lose fifty bucks on the penny slots.” By hour six, the slot machines started looking tempting. I thought, “Maybe gambling is less risky than boarding this plane.”

Finally, after the longest layover known to humanity, I arrive in Albany. Past midnight. Starving. My stomach’s growling so loud, I think it scared the baggage handlers. I head to the rental car center, only to find out it’s CLOSED. Because, of course, why would they stay open for late flights? That would make too much sense.

At this point, I’m Googling “Can hunger cause hallucinations?” because all the restaurants in the area are closed. My dinner options were basically nonexistent. I was so desperate I considered eating my carry-on bag.

So, I finally give up on the rental car and call an Uber. My driver pulls up, and he’s the happiest guy I’ve ever seen—an Indian guy finishing his shift for the night. This dude is so cheerful, it’s like he’s powered by good vibes and chai tea.

He goes, “How’s your night going?” And I just look at him like, “Do you REALLY want me to answer that?” But he keeps smiling like he’s hosting a motivational TED Talk.

As we drive, he starts chatting. “You must be hungry!” he says. 

Oh, you think? My stomach’s been growling so loud, it’s practically asking him for snacks. Then he goes, “Albany has great food!” 

Dude, everything’s closed. The only thing great about Albany right now is the fact that I’m still conscious.

He’s still cheerful, though. “At least it’s not raining!” he says. And I’m thinking, “Buddy, I’d gladly take rain if you could pull a hot dog stand out of your trunk right now.”

Then he tries to make me laugh. “Life is like Uber,” he says. “Sometimes you’re the passenger, sometimes you’re the driver!” I swear I almost tipped him just for trying. But in my head, I’m thinking, “Right now, I’m both—the passenger in your car and the driver of my own misery.”

By the time we pull up to the hotel, he’s still smiling and goes, “Enjoy your stay!”

I get to my hotel, and it’s undergoing renovations. There’s construction tape everywhere—I think I stepped over a pile of drywall just to get to the check-in desk. And the toilet in my room? It wouldn’t flush correctly. By this point, I’m convinced the universe is testing me.

I manage three hours of sleep, stumble back to the rental car center at sunrise, and finally get my car. The old lady behind the counter is like, “Long night?” I said, “Let me put it this way—if you handed me an espresso and a pillow, I might cry tears of joy.”

Shortly after that, I head straight to work. For an eight-hour class. About vacuum systems. I spent eight hours learning about expensive vacuum pumps while running on fumes. I was so tired, I think I applauded the instructor for teaching me the difference between “air pressure” and “my will to live.”

Finally, I get back to my hotel room, grab a pizza, and call it a night. That pizza was the highlight of my entire trip—it was like a medal for surviving the Hunger Games of air travel.