Friday night was going to be watching John Mayer strum on his many guitars with my mum and sister at the colossal arena and then off to the airport to pickup fiancé for his (one) weekend home from training. It was going to be closing my eyes at the favourite parts of " Stop this train" and "Gravity" and singing along with the other 20,000 attendees. It was going to be fighting past everyone to get to the bottom of the escalator when my man steps off and into my arms, ready to squeeze his shoulders tight.

8:20 p.m. Phone rings

"Hey you,"
"Hi! Wait, what is it? What' s wrong? Why aren't you on a plane?"

"It was cancelled."

He was to stay overnight in Toronto and get on the first flight here in the morning. No fiancé in our bed tonight? No airport hug? I couldn' t tell you if the John Mayer concert was good. It probably was. But while the crowd sang the chorus of "Your Body is a Wonderland," I curled in my top lip and tried not to cry.

8:00 a.m. Saturday morning. At the airport with his Dad. His flight lands, passengers come down the escalator. No fiancé. The flight crew comes out and still he's not there. We deduce he's on the next one, and then when he isn't on that flight, the one after that. We get a call from him that his early flight was overbooked, he was kept waiting for two hours, he was put on a plane to arrive at 11:10.

10:55. Phone rings.

"Well, we're here on the tarmac and there are mechanical problems."

This is so agonizing it's almost funny. Not quite that hopeless yet, though. What is funny is that the "arrivals" screen says his flight, which is grounded in Toronto on the runway, is scheduled to arrive on time in five minutes.

We ask the airline wankers if they can tell us when we can expect my fiancé, the one that was supposed to arrive 12 hours ago from a city that is a four-hour drive away.

"We can't give out any passenger information, not even if you were the police," one says with a smile and wink.

12:55. Five hours after arriving at the airport. Two hours after the food court had been discovered, three hours after the paper had been read cover to cover, he came down the escalator and I ran at him with puffy eyes.

His visit lasted a day and half. I watched him go through the security line at 11:55 a.m. yesterday morning after I hugged him tight and kissed his coffee-breath mouth goodbye. But I got my hugs and back scratches and kisses.

I'll let you know how they sustain me for the next two months until I see him again.