No place like home
I don’t know when I’ll get home. The weather in Montreal is horrid, though planes are moving, but the weather in Chicago is apparently worse.
If I can just get to Chicago before, say, midnight, I know I can get home no matter the further delays. That’s what the bus is for.
If I can’t get to Chicago, though, I’m very much stuck. I don’t want to be stuck. But I get there when I get there.