A takeoff on landings

Phone calls from the Denver airport, between business flights home:

9:15 a.m. Hi, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know my connecting flight is running a little late here in Denver. No big deal: 20 to 30 minutes max, the airline says. See you soon.

10:45 a.m. Me again. We seem to be getting off the plane. Yeah, we got on, then we got off. When they turned on the engines, two of the toilets exploded. Remember that white sweater the kids gave me? Well, it’s blue now. Anyway, there’ll be another short delay: 20 to 30 minutes max, the airline says.

12:30 p.m. Hi, they’ve scheduled us on another flight. Apparently we’re overbooked by 75 people, but I’m pretty sure I’ll get on. There’s a lot of pushing going on around the ticket desk. Tell the kids it’s starting to snow. It’s really beautiful, the snow. Wow, look at that snow squall. See you soon.

12:58 p.m. I didn’t get on. But I’m on the 5:20 flight, weather permitting. I think I’ll go have something to eat at Wolfgang Puck’s here in the airport. You know, if you say it three times really fast, it makes you feel better: Wolfgang Puck-Wolfgang Puck-Wolfgang Puck

7:10 p.m. Hi, it’s me. We’re in Boise. Our flight had to make an emergency landing when they found a dead body on board. Some businessman from Cincinnati choked on his sales pitch. Or something. Anyway, they put us down in Boise almost immediately. I don’t know why Boise. Maybe he had family here.

10:30 p.m. Hi, me again. Better not hold dinner. We’re snowed in here in Boise. The bars are all closed, but I’ve got 15 little bottles of airline scotch. Wish I’d packed my pillow. Don’t want to worry you, but I think I’ve got a touch of that avian flu. Cough-cough.

11:45 p.m. Good news. Turns out they’re going to route us through Bozeman, then put us on a dog sled to Spokane. Then Kitty Hawk. Then Paris. (Just kidding about that Paris part.) See you soon. Cough-cough-cough.

2:10 a.m. Hi, I think we’re a little lost. The dog sled driver wanted to go left, but the dogs insisted on going right. It was sort of like watching the Lakers play. Wait, I think I see lights ahead. No, that’s just the airport again. I think we’re going in circles. Definitely don’t hold dinner. Wolfgang Puck-Wolfgang Puck-Wolfgang Puck ...

2:45 a.m. Good news. One of the sled dogs stopped to give birth. Tell the kids I’m bringing home a puppy.

Two weeks later, 5:45 p.m. Hi. It’s me. Back in Denver. The airline thinks that’s the smartest route right now, given the blizzard conditions and the power outages all across the West. I’m booked on the 6:30 flight through Salt Lake, where we’ll be met by 600 Mormons holding votive candles and praying for our safe arrival. We’re about to board the plane: 20 to 30 minutes max, the airline says.

See you soon.

Chris Erskine can be reached at chris.erskine@latimes.com.