A Journey Through Missteps and Mishaps (But Always Forward)

Tuesday, December 3rd – Almost Took the Wrong Flight!

The security gate opened at 3 AM, navigating security with ease—no questions, no hassle. So far, so good! While waiting at the gate, I chatted with Janita, my go-to for early-morning calls. With my budget ticket, I was among the last to board, so I leisurely got in line when only a handful of people remained.

And then... surprise! I was at the wrong gate, about to board the wrong flight.

Thankfully, it was a small airport, and the correct gate was just beside it. My actual flight had already boarded everyone and was just waiting for me—talk about cutting it close.

Onboard, I attempted a nap but managed only about 15 minutes of sleep.

Upon landing, my next mission began: getting closer to Chicago. Big cities aren’t my thing, so I decided to book a Poparide to Windsor, a border town. With time to kill before my 6:30 PM ride, I wandered to a cinema and watched Wicked. I think I fell asleep somewhere in the middle.

The ride to Windsor was uneventful. I had booked a hotel in advance, and as soon as I got into the backseat, I was out like a light.

Wednesday, December 4th – The Border Crossing Anxiety

To have a hotel that has breakfast included is nice, it is not as extravagant as in Norway but non the less quite good, me being stressed and allergic to eggs made the breakfast choice quite limited. And it is only from 6-9. And since I am staying in cheap hotels most of the guests are workers.

After breakfast, I set out to find the Tunnel Bus to Detroit. U.S. border crossings always stress me out, so I mentally prepared myself to talk less and be as direct as possible. A kind local helped me navigate my way, though even he seemed a bit worried on my behalf.

At the border, the woman behind the counter turned out to be friendly. After a long chat, I was cleared to stay in the U.S. until March 4th—relief washed over me!

Now, I just needed to figure out where to go next. I set my sights on Holland, Michigan, but winter had other plans. A snowstorm shut down all buses, (or a wednesday as I would call it.) leaving me stranded.

My backup plan? Well this bus is going to Kalamazoo. Not exactly where I was planning but it is midway to Chicago and anywhere outside a major city would do.

Hours of travel and just a single breakfast in my stomach left me starving. A fellow traveler, Kel Henri, was heading to Florida but got stuck due to delays. His friend offered him a ride, and he even invited me to join. I declined. Big mistake.

Desperate for food, I found a restaurant four minutes away—only to discover it was closed. Another 15-minute walk later, I finally found a decent spot near the SAS Radisson.

Exhausted but not quite ready for bed I found a karaokebar reght next to my hotell.... Well so I thought. The karaokebar was closed due to weather and the hotel was not were I thought it should be...

Another 30 minute walk and I made my way to the hotel. Hotels.com was being difficult, so I was not able to make a booking. My phone and laptop were nearly dead, and my feet were screaming at me. But at least my awesome jacket kept me warm.

Checked into a beautiful room and immediately booked an extra night. I needed this.

Thursday, December 5th – Kalamazoo Wanderings

After sleeping in, I wandered down to the city, starting my day with breakfast and a muffin at a cozy café.

Kalamazoo’s city center, called "The Mall," had a charming layout—wide sidewalks, historic buildings, and a quieter vibe thanks to the lingering winter storm.

I visited Martin Luther King Park

and the art museum, which also had a craft fair. But when I saw yarn priced at $55, I decided it wasn’t my kind of fair.

Hunting for entertainment, I ended up at a cozy bar. Still no karaoke. Determined, I walked 15 minutes to another place. Music bingo. Not quite the same. At this point, I gave up, ordered a taco bowl, and called it a night.

Friday, December 6th – No Sense of Direction Strikes Again

Like most hotels, breakfast ran from 6–9 AM. I set out to find the bus station—thinking I knew the way. I didn’t.

What should have been an 18-minute walk turned into 40 minutes of me wandering aimlessly. I give up. I know I have no sense of direction, but at this point, it's getting ridiculous.

Ticket in hand, I boarded a bus to Chicago. Bus rides in the U.S. are a completely different experience compared to home. Loud conversations, people talking on speakerphone, kids blasting shows without headphones—pure chaos. As a true Norwegian, I gave them all an inner scolding and silently endured it.

Three hours later, I arrived in Chicago and checked into a hostel in an all-girls dorm. Completely overjoyed for the detachable shower. (Am I official a grown up for this?) After grabbing some food, I went to the Friday welcome party and met a guy from Sweden who works with Scania. We talked about their shift toward electric trucks, and I told him about JCI.

Later, I found a karaoke bar at Hard Rock Cafe Chicago—but there was a catch. They had a live band and only a handful of songs I knew. I still managed to do "Stuck in the Middle with You."

Karaoke ended at 10 PM, so I went to another place. 32 people ahead of me in the karaoke queue. One drink later, I was out.

Hunger hit again, so I searched for food despite the late hour. A small bar had a late-night menu featuring 10 chicken wings. What arrived at my table? A monster-sized plate that could have fed a family. I swear it was closer to a hen than a chicken.

Finally, at 2 AM, I walked back to the hostel, full and tired.

Saturday, December 7th – One Last Wrong Turn Before Alaska.

I woke up early and headed for breakfast at the hostel—pleasantly surprised by the quality, though unimpressed by the staff’s lack of basic kitchen vocabulary. I mean, if you work in a kitchen, you should at least know what a knife is in english…

With my flight back to Anchorage ahead, I took the Blue Line to the airport. Even with my map out, I somehow managed to get off one stop too early—classic me. At least I had time to catch the next train and reflect on my lifelong battle with navigation.

Arriving at Chicago O’Hare, I felt grateful that my big airport confusion had happened in Winnipeg and not here. Thankfully, terminals were divided by airline, so I only had to double-check a few screens to make sure I was in the right place.

Final Thoughts – Getting Lost, But Moving Forward

This journey was a perfect example of why I named my blog No Sense of Direction. From missing the correct gate to walking double the necessary distance, my internal compass remains as useless as ever.

But at the end of the day, I always end up where I need to be—even if it takes a few extra steps (or a random detour to Kalamazoo).

Wouldn’t have it any other way.