Calf deep in snow, I shook my fist in the general direction of Chicago and screamed, "D-Word, I hate you, Chicago." I'll explain.
Twas the night before Christmas Eve, my two friends and I ,against our better judgement, decided to make the most of our eleven hour layover and go partake of authentic Chicago pizza. We hail a cab to take us out into the white Christmas bliss raging snow storm and deliver us at Ginos. It aint' delivery, it's Ginos. Mmm K, so said cab drops three hungry, bone weary, jet lagged girls off to feed their little missionary bellies (we'd been on a ten day mission trip to London) Cab drives away into the blizzard winter wonderland. Eagerly we proceed to the door, which is locked. Polite knocking ensues, Mr. Pizzeria comes to the door and informs me they're closing early (an hour and friggin half early) due to the weather. I attempt to use my Georgia born and Georgia bred charms to get us some food, then I beg, then I pled, to no avail. He left us cold and hungry to fend for ourselves in the SNOW. If I've ever wanted to throw a public hissy fit it was then. I wanted to hurl snow balls and Christmas curses, but I had a sick friend who was half way down the street. We had to traipse through feet of snow to even find the side walk. It was at the point I realized I'd spend the rest of the night with soaked pants legs, that I let "Chicago" have the "fist fight." I'm afraid Chicago won. So after our 1/2 mile or more jaunt through the snow we arrive at the next restaurant, also closed. Nancy's saw the fire in my eyes and at least let us in for the bano and obligingly gave this pickled peach a number for the closest cab company.
We got one of Chicago's finest cab drivers, who belabored the beastliness of the weather and how we'd be lucky to get a flight home . "Uh ya think, I'm freezing, and hungry and just took a whirlwind cab ride to find out it's true. It's all true, Santa ain't real and you derned yankees are as bad as they say!"
Back at the airport, now close to 12am, I consoled myself with a McDonald's happy meal and an ice cream cone. And went to fervently praying that all runways would lead to the mason dixie line, and they did. Home for Christmas never felt so good. Moral of the story, if you're going to Chicago be sure to wear a flower in your hair cause you'll probably have to eat it for dinner.
Thus concludes Elizabeth's Got the Grinch-ies 2009.