Meanwhile in the midwest . . .

I woke up in Dayton to disgusting cold weather and rain. I braved it all just to get a breakfast at McDonalds. Dayton was everything I remembered it to be -- sad looking buildings and all. When we reported to the airport, it would seem that Dayton was having the best weather in the entire region. Despite my numerous instrument approaches in the last few weeks, the weather has been decidedly un-winter-like. That all changed in a day. When I flew in to Appleton the previous day, I could see green grass on my approach. 24 hours later, 12 inches of snow covered the landscape. What was snow west of the lake was freezing rain and ice pellets to the east.

My deadhead from Dayton to Detroit was holding over the airport for almost an hour before finding a gap in the ice storm. Once there, we went to our assigned plane that we would fly to Chicago Midway. I was personally not looking forward to landing a jet in a Chicago snowstorm onto icy runways that are notoriously short. After setting up the flight plan, the gate agent came down and told us the flight was canceled. The captain and I gave each other a fist bump. Midway's runways were closed and nothing was getting in or out. I had just scarfed down a Potbelly's chicken salad sandwich and was now regretting this decision. Now I had over three hours to kill before attempting to fly another plane out to South Bend. The anger and stress was clear on people's faces in the terminal, so I tried to make myself scarce. Eventually we made it to South Bend after getting rattled around in fairly significant turbulence all the way in.

I had most of the day to relax before our scheduled report time of 5:00pm. This would soon get pushed to 10:00pm. I went for a stroll back to Notre Dame's campus. I was greeted by unforecasted snow flurries. The campus was fairly dead. Feeling a bit cold, I got excited when I saw a sign for Au Bon Pain. Glory be! -- an ABP! My enthusiasm for hot soup and pastries was soon dampened by the sight of chairs stacked atop tables. I had forgotten that students are on their winter break and everything is pretty much shut down on campus. Lunch would have to wait. I made a stop at the bookstore to warm up for a bit and then made my way over toward the stadium and a mural of what has come to be known as "Touchdown Jesus."





I received a text from the captain that stated our scheduled depart time had now jumped to after midnight. I looked back up at Touchdown Jesus. Perhaps he is not signaling a touchdown, but rather using his arms to gesture and say, "The plane was supposed to be over here in Atlanta, but in fact it's circling somewhere over there above Sheboygan. I eventually got lunch at an Irish pub called Fiddler's Hearth. As far as my ethnic food sampling goes, this seemed like a good fit other than the waitress who seemed annoyed when I ordered a water. Look, I know it's a pub, but it's also noon on a Tuesday. I didn't want to have to explain FAA alcohol regulations, so I left the whole, "I'm a pilot" bit out. Those Irish are just looking for a fight. Nevertheless, my piping hot shepherd's pie was a welcome warmup from the cold weather outside.

As our departure time kept fluctuating, I realized I had time to get some dinner as well. I went to a Thai restaurant with the confusing name of "Cambodian Thai." As there was nothing Cambodian on the menu, it would be akin to opening a deli and naming it "Mexican American." Nonetheless, I kept it tame and ordered Pad Thai. I asked for it spicy, which adequately cleared out my sinuses. It wasn't terribly flavorful, however. It had really good reviews on Yelp, so I was somewhat surprised at my disappointment, but then I reminded myself that I was in South Bend, Indiana. It's best to stick with the Irish pubs perhaps.