But here's the quick and dirty of it. After being forced to take private car service out to Long Island (I don't know anyone that's flown out of Long Island either), my flight getting delayed causing me to miss my connection, I'm forced to stay the night in the Chicago-Midway Airport with nothing but The Hunger Games (Overrated and yes, it's YA - please don't judge me) and a dying iPod.
As soon step away from the gate desk to try (unsuccessfully to get on another flight or get a comped hotel room), I begin to tear up with the sudden realization that I am all alone and in for a rough night. I slouch down onto the ground in a corner and cry. There is nothing more depressing and/or lonely than recovering from a traumatic break-up and being stranded in an empty airport. I tell you, there is not.
After getting NO sleep, throwing up once, and listening to "PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE BAGGAGE UNATTENDED" every 90 seconds for 8 hours, I get on the plane just to be serenaded by approximately five screaming babies. No offense to screaming babies, but to the parents of screaming babies - please at least try to make your screaming baby not scream so much. Do not leave it strapped in a car seat and shove a DVD player in it's face and pretend nothing is happening. Your baby is like six months old. It' doesn't know who Nemo is. OMG.
I stagger home, recoil at the idea of trying to make it to work in the afternoon, crawl into bed and sleep. For a long time.
More photos:
Walking across the Brooklyn Bridge after pizza at Grimaldi's.
Times Square was insanity. Not my favorite.
On Kathryn's roof. Amazing views! Sadly, we neglected to get a pic with Kathryn. 
Sackler Wing at The Met and where they shot one of the scenes from When Harry Met Sally, which is in my Top 3 Favorite Movies List. "Waiter, I would like to try a piece of your pecan pie."
Seeing Chicago at the Ambassador Theater.
My torn up, swollen feet.
Empty Subway ride. It was late.
My torn up, swollen feet.
Empty Subway ride. It was late.
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