Live from New York! (11 hours, 29 minutes, 1 bad burrito later)

(UPDATE BELOW)

Don’t do as much travel as I used to. Remembered why I don’t miss it a lot when I received an automated phone call Friday night from Delta saying my scheduled leisurely Saturday afternoon flight to New York had been canceled and replaced by a cartoonish Sunday itinerary that had me routed through Columbus, Ohio on something called Chautauqua Airlines, which Delta happily reported would still get me into LaGuardia at 2:02 p.m., assuming Chautauqua didn’t first have to circle back and fulfill its other obligation of dusting crops just outside of Springfield. The 2:02 Sunday arrival would’ve been just fine if the NFL hadn’t scheduled the Falcons-New York Jets game for a 1 p.m. kickoff in East Rutherford, N.J., or if commissioner Roger Goodell had the common decency to phone me and offer the use of his private jet. But no. The prima donna never called. And so. It was time to draw from all of those years of road nightmares. I also figured I might as well pass some time in plane, train and automobiles by putting together a blog. I’m weird that way. So here we go.

♦ ♦ ♦

Because of scenes like this one at Reagan National Airport in Washington D.C., all airports in New York, New Jersey, Washington, Baltimore and Philadelphia were shut down. Even the Falcons moved up the departure time of  their charter flight to beat the worst of the storm. (And by the way, Arthur Blank didn’t call me, either.) Late Friday night, I waited through 45 minutes of busy signals and then 40 minutes of on-hold Christmas music when a call did through. And by the way, the next person who sings, “Let it snow, let is snow,” gets punched in the nose.  So I finally get a ticket agent on the phone, and I’m pretty sure I interrupted her while she was doing her nails. She says to me, “There’s, like, this really bad winter advisory, and, like, it’s REALLY messing everything up.” And, like, I’m so not exaggerating how she said that. And when I asked her about my other options because this whole Columbus/Chautauqua thing just wasn’t going to work for me, she responded: “I really haven’t worked here for long so, like, I’m not really sure what to do. Umm …” And that’s when I, like, poured myself a vodka, and came to the conclusion about four hours sleep was the best option.

♦ ♦ ♦

Alarm went off at 5:45 a.m. Saturday. Pretty sure I broke it. I kept hearing this voice in my head saying, “Like, I think you need to wake up, but, like, I’m not really sure because I’m new here.” Headed to the airport. The place looked like Kabul. I found a really smart ticket agent who informed me that, indeed, most flights were canceled. There was one early flight still going to LaGuardia and another to Neward but bother were oversold and the wait list came in three-volume sets. (Our Falcons’ guy, Darryl Ledbetter, texted me he was going to try to stand by on Air Tran flights. I laughed.) My super agent determined the best option was an 8:45 flight to Boston. Then a cab. Then a train. So I jumped on the airport tram and just as the doors closed I looked through the window and noticed that former Falcons coach Dan Reeves had to stop short because he couldn’t get on. He didn’t look happy. Actually, he looked like I looked before the vodka.

♦ ♦ ♦

Meet my new pal, P.J. Alexander. He checks in at about 6-4, 306 pounds and says he has “pretty hair.” He sat next to me on the Boston flight. He was nice enough to let me share the arm rest, probably because he didn’t want to get me angry and he knew I could take him. If P.J. looks familiar, it’s because he’s a six-year NFL offensive lineman who played for the Falcons in 2006 and was in their training camp in 2007 before being released. He played last season with the Florida Tuskers in the fledgling UFL. He managed to get through the season without actually knowing what a Tusker is. Told some great stories. Turns out he’s the rest of us — he also hated Bobby Petrino (yes!). “He liked me for some reason,” Alexander said, “but I didn’t like him.” Told one story of a Falcons’ teammate breaking his finger. Petrino later saw him in the weight room and was nice enough (the player thought) to ask about the broken finger. The player said it was fine and that he could just “tape it up and modify” his grip to lift weights. Petrino’s response: “Why don’t you modify by putting some more [bleeping] weight on the bar,” and he walked away. Turns out he also had a flight to catch.

♦ ♦ ♦

A lot of planes on the runway. Arrived in Boston just before noon, a little late. Jumped into a taxi for the 15-minute drive to the train station. (Accounting: $25, including tip.) This is my Boston cab driver. Forgot to get his name. But he told me snow wasn’t expected in the city until about 9 p.m. and that Randy Moss was a lazy bum.

♦ ♦ ♦

This is the train station. It’s just a little bigger than the one in Atlanta. It was a popular place Saturday.

♦ ♦ ♦

So far, so good. All departures are on time.

♦ ♦ ♦

And here comes my train now, right on schedule. OK, seriously. I missed the 11:40 train, but it was sold out anyway. I was there in time for the 1:45, but it also was sold out. Actually, every morning train was sold out. This was not normal for a Saturday. “Man, you wouldn’t believe what it’s been like here today,” the guy behind the window said. So I had to wait around for the scheduled 3 o’clock, four-hour ride to Penn Station. Got the last ticket. Ate a burrito in the food court. I’m regretting it in mid-blog. (Accounting: $6.25 for the burrito. You’ll be getting a receipt for $14.50, and you’ll like it.)

♦ ♦ ♦

This is the train. It got into Boston late and departed one hour and seven minutes late. There’s nobody on the platform right now because they all ran me over to get on board first, including some 92-year old women who screamed, “Get out of my way you lazy bum! You’re just like Randy Moss!”

♦ ♦ ♦

I heard from Mr. Ledbetter. Long story short: He stood by for two morning flights. Didn’t get on either. (He never learns.) Caught a later flight to Boston, arrived and the 6:30 p.m. train was sold out. So he’s on the late night Amtrak that is scheduled pulls into Clarksville at 2:30 a.m. Sunday. If he’s not completely lucid in his pre-game Tweets, that’s why.

♦ ♦ ♦

Made it! Flight, I mean train, No. 165 pulled into Penn Station at 8:14 p.m. Haven’t ventured outside yet but I looked out the window as we were pulling into the station, and it looks ugly. I’ll try to post a snow shot later. Just wanted to bring this trip to an official end. Thanks for helping me get through it. I’ll check back in later.

♦ ♦ ♦

UPDATE

OK, peeps. Here are a couple of shots. I love New York. But because of days like this, I’m very happy to be living in Atlanta. Cab driver almost side-swiped a parked car between the hotel and the train station. Snow and slushy wet stuff has been coming down since 2 p.m., according to my weather source (cabbie). He says they’ve projected 12 inches but adds that it shouldn’t be too bad tomorrow. I just don’t know what “not too bad”  means to him. Let’s see how the Falcons handle this.

DID YOU MISS ANY PAST (PLANNED) DIGI-BLOGS? JUST CLICK HERE.