10:55

According to my itinerary, I should be on a Delta flight right now, heading back to Atlanta from Portland, probably about 35,000 feet somewhere over western Colorado at about this time.

According to my itinerary.

According to Delta's flight schedule, however, my flight doesn't actually leave for another 9 1/2 hours. And since Delta's flight schedule apparently enjoys a higher level of reality than my itinerary, the net result is I'm in the Portland office posting to my blog right now, rather than flying home.

I screwed up. When I booked my flight - leaving Atlanta on February 19 and returning on March 15 - I bought a return ticket for 10:55 pm, thinking it was for 10:55 am. And I didn't realize my mistake until just a couple of hours ago.

Last night, I packed up for a morning flight, cramming six weeks worth of clothes, fleece and Powell's Books purchases into one huge luggage bag, and was concerned about how I was going to get that big, heavy bag all the way out to the airport without a car. Schlep it on the train? Take a cab? I decided that I'd figure it out in the morning, got a good night's sleep, and woke up at 7:00 this morning, showered, and checked my email. There was a message from Delta, "It's Time To Check In," and when I opened it, I noticed that my flight arrived back home at 6:18 am on Sunday, March 16.

I figured that had to be a mistake, so I checked my receipt and sure enough, I had inadvertently booked myself on a 10:55 pm flight instead of a 10:55 am flight (if it helps explain my blunder, my usual weekday departure time is 11:55 am, and delta.com typically does not list its flights in chronological order but by price, so at quick glance, the 10:55 pm option looked right).

But no problem. I went online and saw that there was a flight leaving Portland at 1:21 pm - a one-stop with a brief layover in Salt Lake. It got to Atlanta at 11:10 pm - late, but a whole lot better than 6:18 am.

On my first attempt to change my ticket, I was told that I could only do so three hours before the plane departed - I needed to call back in an hour (it was only 9 am). No problem. I went out to breakfast - bacon and eggs at a friendly little counter in the Pearl District - and then called again. But now I was told that the 1:21 was completely booked, and that in fact all flights out today were full. My only option was the 10:55, unless I wanted to upgrade to First Class.

How much? $450. Forget it.

Hey, it's no one's fault but mine - I should have paid more attention, been more mindful, when I bought the ticket (you better believe I won't be making that same mistake again any time soon). So instead of catching a morning flight, I made the best of things - I reserved a car, checked out of the corporate condominium and left my big luggage bag at the condo office, took Portland's MAX light-rail train out to the airport and picked up my car, drove back to the condo office and put my big luggage bag in the trunk of the rental car, and now I've got one more day to enjoy here in Portland, with a car to get me around and the whole luggage problem solved.

I don't particularly enjoy night flights, attempting to sleep in those tiny airline seats, and enjoy even less arriving at my destination in the morning jet lagged and sleep deprived, and spending a whole day out of sync with my circadian rhythms. And as if that weren't enough to look forward to, tornadoes tore through Atlanta last night with more forecast for today, so I can anticipate arriving home in the early morning, bleary-eyed, cranky and dull, only to find that a fallen tree has taken out my house, the one I intend to sell so that I can complete my move to Portland.

But the sun has just come out, and all I can really do as I sit here bathed in the warm sunshine coming through my office window is just enjoy this extra day in Portland, enjoy this moment now, this very minute.