So, we survived and had about a two hour wait in the Denver airport. But, lo and behold, our plane and another had experienced mechanical issues. They were going to take extra time to figure out what they were going to do. So, we switched gates and after hanging out a bit our pilot explained how our plane had mechanical issues but that he had accepted it.
Apparently, there were some cabin pressure issues but we would fly at such a low elevation that we would be okay versus the folks who were flying to Las Vegas. Uh, hello? Were there no other planes laying around the tarmac? And, even though the pilot explained he had no concerns, there was a back-up cabin pressure system, etc., I wasn't sure what to do. Mike asked if I wanted to get a rental car. I was so tired and really didn't look forward to a long drive home. On the other hand, I didn't want to take any chances. But our luggage was headed to our next airport, so we got on the plane to hell.
At one point, the steward asked the passengers not to congregate for a long time in a big group. So, now we were on board with terrorists? The turbulence out of Denver stank. My prayers were answered when we touched down. As people were preparing to leave the plane, the crew asked us to be careful on the big step off. I joked and said we should just slide down the inflatables. We arrived home around midnight that evening. I was zoinked.
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