How I accidentally ended up in Cuba -- the story of airport hell, meeting new friends and old ones...

This is my column -- The FlipSide -- in this week's L'Attitudes. And yeah, Rebecca, I put your photo on the cover to tease the story. Now you're famous. Or is that infamous?

Accidentally ending up in Cuba

By Jessica Machetta

OK, so it was Cuba, Mo. In fact, one could visit Paris, Versailles, Mexico and Japan all in the same day - all Show Me State-style - if they wanted too, but I don't recommend it.What I wanted was to board a direct flight from Miami to St. Louis, then do the reverse to get home three days later, just as I'd booked tickets to do more than two months ago.

I drove to Miami last Thursday with a happy feeling in my heart. Excited to see my girls, my family, my friends - gifts for all in my suitcase.One missed exit, one traffic jam, two incomprehensible sets of directions (Spanish-speaking only), a call to my friend Jenn who talked me through it all while she was on MapQuest, two full parking garages and a broken suitcase later, I was laughed at when I asked at bag check if there was any way I would make my flight. I opted for the later flight to Atlanta where I would make my connecting flight.

Or so I thought.In Atlanta, after being sent from Gate T to Gate C than back to Gate T, I was told the flight was delayed one hour. Which is why it was funny when I returned 15 minutes later to a locked door and no gate attendant. (OK, well now it's funny.) I and another girl (also told it would be one hour - we'd gone two gates down to suck down a quick ciggy) practically had siezures in front of the window trying to get the pilot's attention.

Then we ran both ways trying to find another gate attendant. No dice. Sweating and waving some more, we freaked out together, much to the amusement of the people who had already been waiting around for hours upon hours, trying to get to Chicago where weather was a problem.

“Why didn't you wave at the window?” the attendant asked.We told her we about stroked out we were waving so much and she said something like, “That's strange, usually the pilot sees that and tells me to come back and get the passengers.”But that would be luck, something that was not on my side this time.

After booking a 7 a.m. flight the next morning, my new friend said she was taking the same early morning flight and that I could stay with her at her condo.I was incredulous.“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it's no problem. We'll take the train to my house, shower, book a cab for the morning and come back,” she said.

“Um, I'm Jessica, by the way,” said.

“I'm Rebecca.”

So I accepted. Once at her condo, she remembered she'd given her house keys to a friend. When he showed up with them, he determined we both looked like we needed a drink. Indeed. If you're ever in Atlanta, there's a great little pub in Midtown called McCray's. It's next to the gay district.Once back at her place, we decided we better not sleep at all for fear of missing another flight. The next morning, er, three hours later, our cabby never showed. We found him at the Krispy Kreme on the corner, sleeping.

Back at ATL, I tried to print my boarding pass at a kiosk (Rebecca's printed just fine) and it said to see an attendant, who shooed me to the back of a long line. Fighting back tears, I waited for what seemed like forever. Finally it was my turn.“I'm showing that you made your destination last night,” the lady told me.

Are you kidding me?

OK, more hustling.

Rebecca waited for me at the head of the security check line and let me cut in. That's what new friends do for each other.

“We have time for one, quick cigarette,” she said. “Wouldn't it be funny if we saw our Chicago friends in there?”

The previous evening, we had met Alex and Wendell, two strangers-now-friends, who were punch drunk after a multitude of delays. They were supposed to finally board at the same time we were.We walked into the smoking cage, and there they were. Apparently, Chicago was so backed up, their pilot decided he “didn't want to do it.”

One cigarette, a few laughs about our combined misfortune, well wishes and we were off. We landed, promised to stay in touch and split to find our respective families.

I got my rental car, which had Wisconsin plates, so when I missed my exit - again - I didn't look too foolish asking for directions. I knew something was wrong when I started seeing signs for Cuba. It was raining like crazy and there were tornado warnings for most of the St. Louis region.

People were calling into the radio stations talking about how they'd been without power for two days and it was sweltering. Ironic, considering last time I came from St. Louis into the Keys it was the day after Wilma. Seems I have a knack for traveling into chaos.

Needless to say, on the return, after lots of good times with my friends and family back home, I headed back to the airport six hours before my departure time. I wasn't taking any chances. As is Murphy's Law, it took me and my girls all of 20 minutes to return the car, check in and get to our gate. So we ate and shopped, shopped and ate.

We went to the gate to see if we could board early and get going on a nap.

“That flight's been cancelled because of mechanical problems,” the attendant said. He tried to send me to Vegas for a connection. I said no. Chicago? No.

“Well where do you want to go?” he asked.“Somewhere in Florida would be nice,” I said, starting to get snappy.

One of my favorite movie lines, “It's good to want things,” didn't provide any comfort as I stood at my gate, two tired children in tow, crying on the phone to my friend Vala in St. Augustine.

“They don't fly into Jacksonville,” I squeaked. (I start losing my voice after several days of little to no sleep.)

“Yes we do, yes we do,” the attendant interrupted.

“I'll see you about midnight,” I told Vala.We were at a table having a snack and a drink, again, when I said to my oldest daughter Claire, “Tell mama not to cry, everything's going to be OK.”

“Mom, you might as well go ahead and cry, everything is not going to be all right,” she said.I stared at her. “Just kidding,” she said, “everything's going to be fine. We're going to go see aunt Vala, right?”

And we did. And it was. We went back to JAX the next morning, caught our flight back to MIA, got our car and headed for the islands.

Would you believe I hit mini-season traffic as soon as I got on the turnpike? I bet you would.

So to Rebecca, Alex and Wendell, what a long strange trip it's been. And you never know how many potential new friends await your arrival in the smoking section.May all of your journeys be safe ones.

Jessica Machetta is the editor of L'Attitudes. She can be reached at jmachetta@keynoter.com.