The flight was full, and it left on time. There were other people on it who would be attending the Notre Dame game with me(and 80,000+ other strangers). There was even a guy wearing a USC sweatshirt, although I couldn’t tell whether he and his significant other were traveling to the game or just traveling to Chicago and he happened to be wearing that annoying sweatshirt. Everything was smooth, and even the loud kiddies got occupied and less loud as the flight wore on. I sat strategically in the back because a whole crew of unrelated families with young(read: loud, annoying) kids had camped out near row 13, my usual go-to spot. Alas, there were four kids near me, but hark! I heard not a one of them after the midway point to, um, Midway. Lo, I just wanted to use this ridiculous Shakespearean words, and I have, o fickle flying fortress of fate, or 737 – 800! My bag arrived just fine, and on time as well.
