My flight home was uneventful. I finished reading one book and started on another. I napped.
Once back to the car (about 10pm) I tried to open the passenger door, but my key wouldn't work in either orientation. (I thought it was only the driver's door it had problems with!) Then it didn't work in the first orientation on the driver's door, but let me in the 2nd. The shuttle left, but curved around and waited across from me. *sigh* I'm darn near out of gas, but she's gonna stay until I start the car, so I did. Then I finished getting everything ready... almost. Once through the gate having paid I realized I still needed to program the GPS to get me home and find a gas station.
I think it was programmed before I got to the highway, but I don't know if it had started talking to me. I will SWEAR that I saw the signs to Detroit and to Chicago and went toward Chicago. But either I'm completely senile or the world changed around me or the gods were having a little joke and I missed my saving roll.
I started freaking out when the GPS started telling me I was "off route" at Telegraph. (No, I didn't realize what was going on yet. My sense of direction is so crappy, and when I don't recognize roads I figure that's just me.) Finally I (hating myself for doing so -- I really don't want to be programming the GPS while moving, but I) got behind a slow-moving truck, kept him in my sights, and tried to ask where a gas station was. But every time the GPS talked to me it killed my menu-choices so I had to start from scratch. FINALLY I got a split second of seeing that there was a gas station in 0.7 miles, so I took the exit I was coming up on. I pulled up near the train tracks, off the road, and finally got it programmed to take me to ANY gas station. Was almost flattened when someone was going way too fast, and when I pulled into the fast lane to get out if the way (yes, I was using my turn signal) they followed me, swooping back into the slow lane at the last moment.
Got my gas, programmed my GPS, and headed home. It wasn't until I hit MiddleBelt road 'n' miles later that I realized I'd been going the wrong direction on I-94. Then I really started freaking. If I'd just seen I-94 and hopped on, not thinking to check for East or West, I could forgive that, but I looked. I went toward Chicago. I'll swear it!
As a final jest, I got more angry than I usually permit myself to with a vehicle. Trying to go past a slow-moving car they sped up, and when I was going over 80 I decided it was stupid and slowed down to get behind them. I'd have bet anything that it was a male driver, but when a little voice in my ear wondered if it were a particular make of car the spouse often disparages the drivers of, I had to check. (1) If it was not a female it was a VERY pretty male. (2) It actually WAS that make of car.
Survived to make it home. Slept deeply -- I don't remember dreaming. I do remember not being able to figure out the alarm clock this morning, accidentally turning on the radio, but I eventually got that off, and an hour later when the radio comes on to be sure I'm up, I arose.
Got a call at work today, and the spouse is home too.