The wedding ceremony was held in a gazebo in a lovely park redolent with the fragrance of flowering trees and bushes. Folding chairs were set surrounding one part of the gazebo where John had proposed to our Eleni last fall.
Our four days there was a much needed time of grandma hugs and catching up with my two oldest grandsons and granddaughter.
Then we drove our rental car to the Columbus airport to catch the first leg of our flight home. We soon found out our connecting flight in Charlotte was delayed. Once more, we had a meal and watched the flight schedule board. An announcement was made. "Due to mechanical difficulties, our departure gate was changed from E-46 to E-17." This was in a different concourse. We grabbed our carry-ons and hoofed it down one long hallway to make a turn in the airport maze to the concourse or wide hallway containing our new departure gate.
We took seats and waited.
Caught our breath.
An hour later...Calvin said, "One of us needs to ask something."
I walked up to the airline desk, ticket in hand, and inquired about our flight. I was told it was cancelled. "Cancelled??!! Why weren't we told?"
"Look, I don't have time to talk to you. Go sit down until I do," The rude woman in the American airline's uniform told me.
The redhead in me came out. "No! You'll talk to me now. We have tickets to get home. Your airline didn't hesitate to take our money, now you'll damn well take the time to give us tickets on another flight home."
I scowled back.
We were directed to the American Customer Service Desk where we stood in line for an hour and a half. Finally, we got tickets home the next morning, a voucher for a hotel room, and a voucher for a shuttle ride to the hotel.
We went outside to wait...and wait...and wait. Over an hour later, our shuttle van shimmied in front of the airport. I say shimmy because it rattled as if every bolt and screw in it was loose. Eight of us scrambled in--tired, hungry, and sweaty.
Meanwhile, although my body was exhausted, my mind had sprung to life. Two strangers trying to get home to the same city. Their flight gets cancelled. They talk...then...and by the time we were checked into the hotel and I'd gotten a shower, the first chapter of a book was roughed out in my mind. While waiting for our flight early the next morning, chapter two was mentally taking form.
So, where do most of our story ideas come from? They come from life.
Or they come from your editor who says, "We need a series of wounded warriors, preferably SEALS, set in Texas." Book one of this series releases on July 19th.