Planes, Trains, and Travel Pains

Thanksgiving has come and gone, so welcome to the holidays!

Last year I started a tradition - I think I will make it part of my ROUTINE - at our family feast. It is kind of fun with the added bonus that it’s cost-effective.



The first thing I do at Thanksgiving dinner is bring up politics, waxing rhapsodic my opinions, my values and what I think. Yes, it’s self-serving and confrontational, but the result is undeniably great: there are always four or five fewer people for whom I have to buy Christmas gifts. Happy Holidays!



This Thanksgiving weekend I was booked to perform on the Saturday after Turkey Day in St. Charles, Illinois at The Moonlight Theatre, a jewel-of-a-venue tucked away in the western suburbs of Chicago. It’s a well-run performance space managed by a wife-and-husband-team, their son handling the stage management and technical needs, and I always look forward to the shows.



The owner/manager and I had - in my mind - planned the job well: something to do for families other than sitting home all Thanksgiving weekend watching football and eating. A comedy show that had something for everyone, all ages, an hour-or-so where everyone could sit and laugh together.



St. Charles has a yearly “HOLIDAY PARADE” and we thought we could piggy-back on that - “Come park, see the parade, have dinner and a show with everyone from your house!” We sold some tickets and I prepped for the quick overnight trip to the Midwest and back.



The plan: take the first flight out of Philadelphia on that Saturday, land early morning at Chicago O’Hare Airport, rent a car, drive out to St Charles. I would hit the gym, shower and change at the hotel, do the shows, and fly home.



It’s my Routine! My life!



I always take the first flight out - going and coming - which leaves opportunities to overcome delays and cancellations, allowing for last-second flexibility so that I will be on time for performances, rehearsals, etc.

(Note: this concept works about 67% of the time… which statistically makes it more reliable than Congress, my Wi-Fi, or my ability to remember why I walked into a room.)

Friday, the day before the trip, I got a text message from American Airlines - my morning flight had canceled.

No explanation.

I checked the weather - uh oh. A major snow storm (“event”) was going to pulverize Illinois, the Windy City, and much of the Great Lakes area starting Saturday morning. It was named “Bellamy,” and its offspring “Chan” is moving eastward as I write this.

(NOTE: I don’t know - or care - when storms like this were first named; nor do I know or care why. I do know that if you’re going to name every storm, then you should go all-in. Each storm should have its own logo, accompanying merchandise, and a musical theme identifying it for future generations. As in, “Oh! I love your April Showers t-shirt celebrating that thunderstorm back in 2013! What was that storm called? Serenity? I have the theme song in my storm-music-playlist!”)

The flight from Philadelphia to Chicago O’Hare International Airport was jam-packed, owing to the fact that the previous flight was canceled. In addition there were plenty of Chicago Bears fans who had spent the day before watching their team - “THE MONSTERS OF THE MIDWAY” - beat the defending Super Bowl Champion Philadelphia Eagles.

This fandom resulted in some boisterous macho shouts of “BEARS!” and someone tried to start a singalong of the obscure Bears theme song (“Bear Down, Chicago Bears”) to no avail. Nobody knows - or has any desire to learn - the words.

Chicago, for all its pro sports teams (baseball’s Cubs and White Sox, the NBA Bulls, the NHL Black Hawks) is really a “football” town. The Bears are the most-favorite of all, similar to Philadelphia where the Eagles easily outdistance the Phillies’ 76ers, Flyers and whatever the pro soccer team is.

You can call sports radio in the dead of summer in these cities and while baseball is the current season, someone always (ALWAYS) wants to talk about the home football team.



My flight landed in a Chicago late-autumn blizzard. Not unusual. The weather or the landing. Pilots - I have heard this from experienced professionals with commercial airlines and the US Air Force - all believe they can land in terrible conditions including snow.

Taking off is problematic for numerous reasons, but landing? Pilots feel as if they can “set it down safely” in any kind of weather. I’ve witnessed it firsthand, and that is what happened on this trip.

I went to get my rental car - Hertz, with whom I rent some 25 times a year... but… unfortunately… (see the theme?) the train/shuttle service that O’Hare Airport uses to transport people from the airport terminals to the rental car facility (about 2 miles away) was not working.

The system is dependent on outdoor electrical machines and lights and controllers - which had frozen or broken down due to the precipitation.

Uber and Lyft, as is their prerogative, were charging outrageous fees for a trip anywhere from the airport, so… I decided to walk.

Yep. Me, my carry-on and a large roller bag with my puppets, walking in the snow on Mannheim Road in Rosemont, Illinois, to the rental car facility. Pathetic. I know.

True-to-form a large excavator - the 4-wheeled tractor-like machine with a giant shovel in the front - rolled up next to me walking on the shoulder of the road. The driver shouted, “Want a ride!?”

YES! I threw my bags into the shovel of the big vehicle and held onto the outside of the cab as he drove me right up to the rental car entrance!

THANK YOU, CHICAGO!

(Honestly, at this point in my career, being chauffeured in a giant shovel is the closest I’ve come to feeling like a celebrity. Somewhere out there, Beyoncé is thinking, “Why didn’t I think of that?”)

I went to the Hertz desk and… you know it! They had misplaced or lost my reservation.

There was a delay - maybe 20 minutes - while the supervisor and someone on the phone discussed my situation, finally agreeing that I did, in fact, have a reservation and I was given a car.

I then drove the 30 miles to St. Charles, Illinois, in a snowfall. First stop? The gym! After the long drive to the airport in Philadelphia, a two-hour flight, and the snowy drive to St. Charles, I needed some exercise. Why? Because this is “how I roll.”

Then off to the hotel. You probably guessed it. A snafu with my reservation at the Courtyard by Marriott – again.

Not unusual and not a major problem. I have dealt with this kind of stuff (bad weather, delayed flights, lost reservations, miscommunication and mistakes by any one of a number of people including yours truly) so many times that it is just like going to the gym: ROUTINE.

Eventually I get checked in. Patience is not just a virtue, it’s a prerequisite.

Next? I was surprised anyone came to the shows. The tiny suburb of St. Charles canceled their “Holiday Parade” (first time for everything) due to the weather, and I was inundated with numerous texts and messages from followers and family when my plane landed saying they would not be driving in the snow to come see me. No problem. THE SHOW MUST GO ON! I did two 90-minute presentations and people were genuinely appreciative and supportive.

Just so you know: I LOVE TO WORK. And the people who come to see me regularly are beyond wonderful. They’re like extended family. I might not know their names, but I often recognize them. This particular date was no different.

The drive the following morning, the last Sunday of November 2025, was harrowing.

I saw two major accidents - one on a slushy, icy North Avenue just east of St. Charles where a car could not hug the road, missing a curve and plowing into a tree.

Moments later, I watched an SUV slide through a red light, glide through an intersection and collide with a light pole in agonizing slow motion.

Me? I’ve been driving in these conditions for so many years that I left in plenty of time (I slept maybe two hours) so that I would easily return my rental car (without a scratch!) in time to make my break-of-dawn return flight to the east coast.

I love, love, LOVE the Steve Martin-John Candy movie “Planes, Trains and Automobiles.”

It’s not just a major motion picture in my world. It’s more like a documentary. And I relate to every scene, every joke, every bit of dialogue, premise, and crisis. The only differences are the “those aren’t pillows!” scene and I never get the happy ending where Steve Martin is at the front door, introducing me to his wife as “my friend Taylor Mason.”

In my world? I don’t think so.

I walked the dog, I started a laundry, and unloaded my car.

Routine.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Taylor

P.S.:

My book, IRREVERSIBLE by TAYLOR MASON makes a great Christmas gift.

Please give a listen to the podcast I am pleased to be part of: STORIES UNLIMITED. Download it on APPLE and SPOTIFY.



Finally, please consider downloading the Dry Bar Comedy+ App on Android or Apple to watch my two Dry Bar Comedy Specials: Hysterical Perspective and Puppet Regime.



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