Delayed

I'm sitting in a hot, stuffy plane that is sitting on the wet, drizzly tarmac of the Seattle-Tacoma airport. The captain of this little prop-jet, which should already be skimming the sky in route to Montana, just announced that it will be at least another 35 minutes before we can take off. Right before we got on the plane, Jen and I volunteered to "separate from our baggage" in exchange for two free round trip tickets. As I scan the small text on the already crumpled pieces of paper that promises us a free trip to anywhere the airline flies in North America, including Mexico and Canada, I can't help but wonder what chain of events this night will set in motion. Where will those tickets take us? What will we do? Who will we meet? And perhaps even more importantly, will we ever see our bags again?