It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

1950s futurism was hopelessly – even deliriously – optimistic, all flying cars and atomic space ovens and glamorous jet travel. Instead, I spent most of Friday in the worst travel experience of my life.

I left my home in Boston at 4:15 a.m. bound for Norfolk, Va. I was to change planes at LaGuardia and arrive in Virginia at about 11:30 am. My goal was to attend a going-away party for a longtime, dear friend of mine at 4 p.m.

Somehow this became an 18-hour journey of the damned.

After rushing about... More