Next time we fly direct

Before I delve into the many delights that was Christmas with the Stanimal, I just have to say that I've been up for 13 hours. AND IT'S ONLY 3:30!!! Our flight from Toronto was at 6:15 this morning (Priceline, natch), so we hauled our butts out of bed at 3:25 a.m. Eastern time. We checked in at the airport, no problem, and then sat in line for 45 minutes waiting for US Customs to open at 5:00 a.m. We got on the plane, and learned it was apparently being used as a cannibalistic crockpot, cause I swear to baby jesus that it got so fucking hot in there before we started moving that I was about to start weeping. We had to wait for people clearing customs late, taxied to the runway, taxied back to be de-iced, taxied BACK to the runway, and took off an hour late. Thank god I don't carry a concealed weapon because if I had one I would have shot the man behind us squaw in the middle of his forehead. The fucker would not. shut. up. His gravelly, Pittsburgh-accented hamburgery voice CLAWED at my brain until he finally fell asleep and started snoring. Actually, I shouldn't say "snoring" as it was more like "waking the dead." FINALLY we arrived in Pittsburgh and hauled ass to our connecting flight that was about to leave. The whole time we're powerwalking to the terminal I'm all, "Our luggage isn't going to make it, our luggage isn't going to make it." Luckily, WE make it but then sat on the plane for 30 minutes waiting for people who were checked in but stuck in the security line. Every time one would appear he would be half-trotting, looking a little sweaty and worse for the wear from the jog across the terminal, blotting at the Christmas turkey grease that was beading up on his forehead. The flight to Dallas was relatively painless, and three hours later we're standing in the middle of the circus that is U.S. Airways baggage claim. Round and round goes the conveyor belt, with no sign of our bags. I gave up ten seconds after the belt stopped moving and left BK standing there with all the other chumps who were gazing hopefully into the luggage maw. FOOLS! I knew the belt wasn't going to start up again. So I parked myself in the lost luggage line and was rewarded with the knowledge that our bags indeed did not make it on the plane to DFW. So we filed all the paperwork and went to go stand outside to wait for the EXPRESS parking van. EXPRESS. Well, apparently EXPRESS does not mean what we all think it means because we stood there at the curb for thrity minutes while FIVE Express North parking vans went by and THREE remote parking buses came and went before an Express South showed up. We finally made it to the car and started driving home, absolutely exhausted and starving. We decided we're going to stop at Schlotzsky's for lunch, oh-wonderous spiced meat delights, and as we exit and pull up we realize that

THE SCHLOTZSKY'S HAS BEEN CLOSED DOWN.

Though the despair did cause us to consider walking into I-35 oncoming traffic just to make this day go away, we instead settled on a burger and came home. And then BK repacked and left for DFW again. He's got a business trip in New Orleans, don'cha know.