The day after the Nizzle started innocently enough. The plan was to play two rounds of golf in the Denver area before taking a late-night flight home. Everything was going along swimmingly until the second round ended four holes early due to thunderstorms. A minor setback in an otherwise great golf trip.
Suddenly, we were faced with almost six hours to kill before our scheduled 9:44 PM flight. Luckily, we spotted our ol' friend Chili's (a golf-trip staple) on the way back to the Interstate and figured a bowl or three of bottomless chips and salsa would be a good way to kill time. Even if none of us were all that hungry. That morning, we met the "Milkshake Lady" at Castle Pines and had to try one of her world-famous milkshakes . It was one of those rare cases in today's world where something actually lives up to the hype. In fact, I ended up having two milkshakes (one chocolate after the round and one strawberry for the road). I felt like a lead balloon during the second round and really paid the price later that night (two milkshakes and Chili's...not a winning combination), but I will go on record that the second milkshake was worth it. It was that good.
We pulled up to the airport around 6:30 PM, over three hours ahead of time. At least that's what we thought. As we reached the kiosk to check our clubs, I received the first of seven text messages telling us that the departure time had been pushed back. From 9:44 to 10:15. then 10:30. 10:47. 11:15. 11:30. 11:50. Then ultimately 12:10 AM. Our flight didn't leave until 12:30 in the morning. We didn't land at O'Hare until 3:45 AM, sort of an unplanned red-eye flight.
I consider myself to be an extremely patient air traveler. Years of flying in and out of LaGuardia for work have conditioned me to hope for the best and expect the worst. But six hours at Denver International late at night has to be something similar to the survival training that our buddy Ben told us about from his days at the Air Force Academy. In the war for airport supremacy, the man with the most power outlets and gummy worms wins. I managed the battery-life remaining percentage on my iPhone like it was a ticking timebomb. If it had gone down to zero, I would've certainly gone insane. Poor Jimbo was losing that battle - he spent his time trying to be the first person to discover how to comfortably sit in those blue vinyl and metal airport chairs. He gave that up and switched to the rock-hard floor. I knew his brain was turning to mush when he said, "If I ever build my own airport, the floors will be made entirely out of mattresses." It was getting ugly.
