Yes, that's right, they couldn't find my plane ticket. A very nice man named Angus spent an hour searching for it and calling different airlines. When I had been driving through Charlottetown on my way to the airport I was sad to be leaving, but when I thought that I wouldn't be flying home that day I immediately got homesick. All I wanted was to be able to go home now. Fortunately, Angus was finally able to recover my boarding passes and I was finally on my way home!
There's something about walking out to a plane, or exiting a plane by stairs that makes me feel like I'm in a movie. And I got to do it quite a bit on this trip. :)
My first layover was in Montreal, and let me tell ya, it was like entering another country, even more so than entering Canada was. Everyone was speaking French, and I had to go through customs, which I thought was weird. (Come to find out, it made it so I didn't have to go through customs once I actually entered the US. It was still weird though.)
When I made it to Chicago, I was able to call home. Mom told me that she had been tracking all my flights, which made me feel loved and missed. It was that last flight that was the worst. It was the longest of all my flights, and the last leg of a journey is always hard to endure (I am not a good traveler, have I mentioned?). I also finished my book thirty minutes before the end of the flight, which was a bit rubbish. It was too late to turn on my iPod because I would just have to turn it off again in a few minutes when we started out descent. So I wrote in my journal, but it still didn't take up all the time. I glanced out the window and saw our wonderful Utah mountains, and got a bit teary eyed. No matter how much I loved the Island, or what a good time I had, Utah will always be my home and it felt good to return to it.