One final wedding weekend luxury we allowed ourselves was the cushiest flight, leaving at noon (I fly almost exclusively at 6am, midnight, or scurrying out of work early) with nothing to do before that. We had a lovely, lazy morning at my dad’s apartment before arriving at O’Hare to a delayed flight thanks to the Delta glitch, meaning we would miss our connecting flight in Minneapolis. After way too much time on the phone exploring alternate routes, crossing our fingers for our MSP-LAX flights to be delayed (like literally every other Delta flight in the world was) seemed to be the best bet. And, of course, it wasn’t and we got stuck in Minneapolis. We had Tortas Fronteras from O’Hare, the Trump Tower suction cup climber, and Packers playing cards to keep us somewhat occupied, but as our standby flight also got delayed, more flights got cancelled, and we heard more and more horror stories (and saw more flight attendants handing out Kiehl’s bags and coloring books) and saw a thunderstorm coming in, we decided to call it quits, book on a 7am flight for tomorrow, and lean into a surprise night in Minneapolis. We took a car out to my former roommate’s apartment for a delicious dinner, thunderstorm watching, a Target run to get some supplies for my husband’s checked bag, and an early night. Ugh but if this was the wedding disaster, fine.