My Own Private Indiana

So it's Sunday afternoon, and I'm on the place back from DC to Chicago. US Airways flight 3335. About 30 minutes outside of Chicago, the pilot gets on and says,
"Sorry ladies and gentlemen, unfortunately we're gonna have to divert our plane to Indianapolis. We have a low reading on one of our hydraulic systems and we need to land as soon as possible. Too much air traffic in Chicago means that we'll be circling for a while and we don't want to take that risk."
Great. You gotta be kidding. So freaking close to home.
So the flight attendants get on the com and start telling everyone remove all items from the seat pocket in front of you. They stress especially any large or hard items. I think to myself,
"Shit, their gonna ask us to assume crash position."
The pilot gets on again to explain,
"Ladies and gentlemen, the situation is that our front wheel may not respond and we may not be able to steer. So, as a precaution, there will be fire trucks on the runway. No need to be alarmed about this."
Several passengers chuckle. One makes wise cracks. The woman in front of me looks out her window nervously. She's not amused.
So, we come in for landing. No instructions to assume crash position. I guess it's no that bad. I look out and see at least ten bright yellow fire trucks, lights flashing, lining various parts of the runway. We come in and land and it's the softest, most gentle landing I can remember. People sigh. The fire trucks mobilize and follow us at a distance on both sides, a bright gauntlet of welcome.
So, we deplane at the gate and wait for further instructions.
"It's Thanksgiving weekend, the busiest travel time. Please be patient as we figure out what to do with you."
Thirty minutes later the announcement comes out,
"Ladies and gentlemen, your plane is being taken to a hangar for repairs. Unfortunately, there are no spare planes available. We have no flights out until tomorrow (Monday) evening. We are happy to put you up in a hotel."
What? You gotta be kidding. I'm not staying a night here. I gotta be at work. I gotta be at O'Hare in a few hours to pick up MarianEvans from her inbound flight. I gotta move on with my life.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are exploring the possibility of a bus to Chicago. Please put your name on a sign-up list. Also, you are welcome to rent a car. We can't pay for this up front, but we recommend you rent one and send a letter to customer relations and hopefully they will reimburse you."
Hopefully? Crap, it's a risk I gotta take. So I go to the Enterprise counter and explain the situation and that I need to rent a car. No problem, plenty of cars available. Whew. Only $55 a day. Great. "What, you are driving one way to Chicago and won't be returning the car here?" "Um, hello, yes, that's the idea." "We'll since it's interstate and one way, we'll need to charge you a drop fee, since we'll need to drive the car back ourselves. The fee is... let's see here... $400." Fantastic. Couldn't be better. Sure, I'll take it. (US Airways, you better cover my ass here!)
So I rent the car, totally smooth process with peachy keen smiley Enterprise lady, ex sorority girl who partied too hard in college. (Why are ALL enterprise salespeople ex frat boys or sorority girls? I have major issues with the enterprise "type" they recruit.)
So I get on 465, then 65 and drive my ass the 3.5 hours from Indianapolis to Chicago, amidst light rain and thanksgiving traffic, all the while hacking up a lung with this cough that won't go away, and out $400 and hoping I don't get stiffed by this piece of crap airline, having just had my first emergency landing experience, and really wanting to be home, warm and in bed.
Fuck.