Trip To Chicago Airport Narrative

It was January 2014, and I was in Denver visiting my family for Christmas. The day came and went, and on a clear morning a few days later, I arrived at the airport for my flight home to New York. Despite the fact that it was sunny, they had bad news for me: My flight was cancelled because of an impending snowstorm. I've been through this a million times! So it was not a big surprise. I got rescheduled the next day through Chicago, so I went home to spend the night at my aunt's house. The next morning, I got on a flight to Chicago, but when I got there, it turned out my flight home to NYC had been cancelled. Fortunately, my sister lives in Chicago, so I spent the night with her.

The next morning I got up in the dark and got in a cab to go to the airport and sit on the waitlist for a flight home. It's snowing, but nothing unusual for Chicago. As the cab speeded on the highway, it lost control on the snow and started spinning. It lost control and I passed out. When I recovered consciousness, we were in the middle of a completely darkened highway. The cab driver was also unconscious. After a
I am inexplicably and uncontrollably weeping. When I finally got to my gate, I looked at the screen showing the waitlist and realized I couldn’t read the numbers. I noticed something was wrong with my head. My mom asked me why I didn't get myself checked out. I wasn’t feeling well, so I returned to my sister's apartment. I went back to the airport the next morning—or maybe the next?—and sat on the waitlist with hundreds of other people. I still remember when they announced they had scheduled a special plane that was normally used for transatlantic flights to take us all home to New York. I don't think I've ever been happier. Everyone on that plane was so full of joy—it was actually an incredibly fun ride. Anyway, I got home, after four days of