Flight plan

As John Lennon once said, 'Life is what happens while you're busy being stuck on an airplane.' …Or something like that.

After a weekend in New York City, my boyfriend and I raced to the airport and made it just in time to catch our flight to Boston. It was wasted energy, though, because a crazy storm kept us stranded on the runway for nearly four hours.

By the time we got to Boston, we'd missed our connecting flight to Buffalo. The airline gave us a voucher for a room at the airport hotel, and the personality-less guy behind the desk in some random airport office informed us that our new flight to Buffalo would be leaving at 9 p.m. the next day.

After spending hours sitting in uncomfortable airplane seats, it was hard to find any silver lining to the situation – though the hotel bar helped a little.

But I was supposed to work the next day and I'm a wimp – calling in scares me, even if I have a valid excuse. I was ready to be home in my own bed, not stuck in some city I didn't know anything about.

After a good night's sleep and some breakfast, things looked a little better the next morning. We realized we were in Boston, a city neither of us had been to before, on the airline's dime. We'd be stupid not to take advantage of it.

We took a water taxi to the edge of the city and started walking with only the tourist maps from the front desk to guide us toward something fun.

At this point, I was still debating where to apply to graduate school. I had my list narrowed done to five schools, and was stuck between Syracuse and Boston for a sixth. Boston University's Web site made it seem nice enough, but I was more familiar with Syracuse because it's just a few hours away and in the same state.

We passed part of Boston University while we were on the bus heading downtown, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed the College of Communication building – the home of their graduate journalism program.

We got off at the next stop and made our way into BU's hallowed halls. Armed with nothing except my boyfriend and my purse, I crept hesitantly into the journalism department. I was completely unprepared to talk to anyone. But I dove in and asked questions, and found out a lot about a school I had previously all but dismissed.

I've always been one to work from the plan. I make check lists and carve my goals in stone. But over the last year, I've been realizing that it's really hard to live life like that. If I stuck to 'the plan,' I'd be pretty unhappy right now.

I'd be pursuing an English education degree that I don't want, instead of pouring every ounce of myself into journalism. I'd be with someone safe and stale and looking forward to a thrilling life as a suburban housewife, instead of looking forward to all the odds and ends of life with someone who pushes me to go after what I want.

I have no idea where I'll be next year. Thanks to some thunder and lightning, I might be in Boston. I might be somewhere else. I don't know. But I know that sometimes I need to put down my checklist and make the most of the possibilities.

E-mail: keeley.sheehan@ubspectrum.com