As soon as I get out of the shower, my wife tells me, “your phone rang.” It’s a gate agent from Continental in Austin telling me I had better get to the airport. The airline was initiating a series of delays that would almost certainly result in our missing our connection in Newark. His message suggests that we might still make our Stockholm flight if, instead of flying direct from Austin, we fly to Houston first and from there to Newark.

I called Brad and Troy to scramble them two hours early. This put intense pressure on Troy because he has to swing by the gear rental place to pick up wireless mics and the place doesn’t open until 9.

The Continental guy calls again, and this time explains his rationale in detail — hub-to-hub flights are less likely to be delayed in the sequence that is rolling out. He says that, historically, when they push this delay button, the passengers from Austin almost always missed outbound flights to Athens and Stockholm.

Big ups to the Austin Continental guy for being on top of this. (Never got to say thanks because he wasn’t working the desk when we came in, but…thanks, dude.)

I’m at the office, madly trying to dash off the last few PR pitches, trying to get us some Father’s Day love, then I’m out the door to the airport. Brad calls. He’ll never make the flight. He’s almost to the airport and realizes that he forgot his passport. I could add characterizations of our company’s Chief Financial Officer here, but it’s just too easy. What would be the one thing you would not leave the house without?

Troy and I cut our losses and head to the ticket counter. Maybe the direct flight will make the connection. Otherwise, more lutefisk and akavit for us.

But when we get to the gate, the flight to Houston is delayed by fifteen minutes. The bad news: this takes our connection time in Houston down to zero and means we will probably not make it even as far as Newark. But at least we will not make it to Newark with Brad. He arrives huffing and puffing just as we board.

At the end of the short hop to Houston, Continental scores again with a cart waiting for us. Who knew that Dale Earnhardt had been reincarnated as a small hispanic woman? She weaved in and out of pedestrian traffic with a violence that Troy soils himself just a little. But we made the flight.

After sprinting through Newark airport, we make it onto the plane just in time for them to shut the doors, and we sit at the gate for half an hour (hopefully waiting for our bags to catch up to us). But we make it. Total time spend in airport terminals Austin/Houston/Newark: 45 minutes.

Now we’re on a flight plan that takes us north, between Quebec and Newfoundland, then just skimming past Greenland, Iceland off the starboard as we arc down into Stockholm. A flight of just over 4000 miles, taking just over 7.5 hours. Chasing the sun, we leave Tuesday afternoon and land on a Wednesday morning — with a full schedule facing us on Wednesday. So it is time to deploy the sleep strategy. Mine depends on a newly purchased neck collar airline sleeping thingy and enough red wine for the flight attendant to ask what happened to the last two she gave me.

Good night.