Last night (this morning) I actually arrived in Minneapolis a little after Midnight. Lucky for me I was able to sit next to a gentleman (I use this term loosely) who was able to spend his four plus hours in the airport imbibing in liquid refreshment and was able to partake again on our short flight. As we sat on the tarmac for over a half hour he was able to 1) explain to me in detail that they couldn't keep us on the plane for over an hour 2) repeat the same information to those around him 3) call Southwest on his phone to repeat the same information using the F word multiple times. Actually a flight attendant on the way out accurately guessed the caller. Anyway, by the time I arrived at the shuttle door it was closer to one. Since the shuttle were busy not only doing their shuttle runs but digging cars out, it was closer to two thirty before I saw my car. As the shuttle driver dug out behind my car, I waded through the drift around my car trying to get the snow off (without a coat of any kind, but with flimsy mittens from the back seat). The snow was overwhelming until I hit the thick layer of ice on my front window and passenger side. Even though I have an excellent scraper, I could only make a small whole. Perhaps with more appropriate clothing it may have gone smoother, but I am doubting it. I eased my car out (not an easy task with the other cars to close and half my car covered in ice). All the way home (with the defrost on high) I crouched in my car gaining my vision through the small viewing area thinking I was going to get hit by a drunk driver (3am), and the police were going to ticket me (without valid identification) because I was the idiot. I think I was home around 3:45 and in close to 4:00 (Did I mention the extremely needy cat whom no one could get to?).
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