Denver International Airport
JetBlue‘s nonstop flight from Denver to Boston costs $99 one way. But Darlene has never been a fan of the 10-minutes-to-midnight departures, the 5:30 am arrivals at Logan, and the comatose daze in which we arrive at my parents’ home in Cambridge. She is a woman who needs nine hours of solid sleep a night. I seldom get a good night’s sleep anyway, so I’ve taken a perverse pleasure in the JetBlue red-eye flights. Insomnia loves company. We had the 9:25 p.m. RTD bus from Market Street to ourselves and arrived at the airport relaxed, glad the packing was over, looking forward to the start of our three-month sojourn in France.
But as we stood in line at JetBlue, I saw a scrolling digital announcement that our flight was delayed two and a half hours. For several moments I delayed telling Darlene, but she was going to find out sooner or later, and I had no Plan B. Now she is sleeping on the carpet at Gate A35. It is 12:45 a.m. We have been told we will begin boarding at 2 a.m. All the bookstores and restaurants are closed. Everyone looks as if they are underwater–moving slowing, speaking softly. I’ve had fun flying JetBlue to Boston, but I’m no fool. I know it’s over. She didn’t even have to say so.
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