There and back ... and back again!

It's been a whirlwind 24-hour period in the Sego household. And while "tales from the world of travel" aren't usually journal-worthy, this trip to and from San Francisco was a whopper and well worth the effort to put words on paper (er, the Interweb.)

3:30 p.m. Monday: I left Indianapolis International en route to San Francisco to pick up my one and only daughter after her month-long visit with her dad and family. I took the roundabout way of getting there because frankly, there isn't a good way to get there from here.

5:30 p.m. Monday: Land in Minneapolis-St. Paul for a brief layover before catching a late plane to SFO.

10 p.m. Monday: Land in San Francisco, make familial connections, cry a lot while hugging the girl who has grown a foot, then settle in for the trek back to the Midwest.

1:50 a.m. Tuesday: Crash out on plane from SFO to Atlanta (again, there's no good way to get back here from there) and try to sleep on a four-hour flight that was packed full of people. (I'll spare you the rant about the ticketing check-in process for Delta, a Northwest partner airline, that apparently doesn't know the difference between Minneapolis and Indianapolis when it comes to telling customers WHICH LINE TO STAND IN TO GET A BOARDING PASS. Ahem.)

6:30 a.m. Tuesday: Land at ATL and notice that, hey, they've done a lot with that airport recently, and it looks pretty darn good! A cup of Starbucks for me and a chocolate banana smoothie for Zoe, and we're feeling like home is right around the corner!

10:30 a.m. Tuesday: A medium-length layover later, we're loaded on yet another plane, this time bound for IND on a quick flight that is SUPPOSED to take one (1) hour and eight (8) minutes.

11:20 a.m. Tuesday: Ears popping and stuff falling off my lap tray, I wake to the sound of the pilot and airline attendants telling people to SIT DOWN and BUCKLE THEIR SEAT BELTS on this approach to Indy. What they really wanted to say was: "Would you people get OUT of the bathroom for the 44th time and STAY IN YOUR SEATS -- WE'RE TRYING TO LAND HERE!"

We make our approach. The clouds look crazy. Rain starts to slap the windows. Everyone on the plane is a little confused because there's been no sign of stupid weather on the trip til now. The wings start dipping from side to side. The lady in the seat next to me begins saying a rosary. Zoe's asleep on my shoulder, but she wakes up as we come down quickly (a little too quickly) and see the stripes on the runway rush up to greet us.

And then, just as we're about to touch down -- as in, it looked like you could reach out and almost touch the ground it was so close -- we suddenly feel the plane's nose push for the sky, and the pilot accelerated like nothing I've ever felt in a commercial jet. We then climbed high above and away from IND ... and my heart literally hurt as the pilot came on the PA system to tell us: "People, we've got a problem. We're being diverted to Dayton because Indianapolis just closed its strip and we don't have the fuel to circle and wait out this line of storms."

Little did we know these were storms extraordinaire. They pounded the Indy area at the exact same time we were about to land after a VERY LONG trip ... which extended this little jaunt into the late hours of the afternoon.

Don't get me wrong. Dayton is a lovely place. Sort of. The airport is, well, modest by anyone's standards. We spent 90 minutes there before boarding again and making our way back to IND, landing at a lovely 2:15 p.m. in somewhat overcast conditions.

And then we sat. And sat. And sat some more. In the plane, mind you, because every gate was full with airplanes that were either stranded, late or unable to take off yet as the storms finally blew their way through the Hoosier heartland.

It was 3 p.m. before we emerged to the massive crowd waiting inside the airport itself. It was a mess. Baggage claim wasn't any prettier. And the drive home? Well, let's just say there are some seriously STUPID PEOPLE on the rainy roads in Indy on Tuesday afternoons -- that's all I'm sayin'.

We walked in the house shortly after 4 p.m., exhausted and thankful that this day's journey was finally over ... and especially thankful to have been there (SFO) and back (to IND) and back again (via DAY).