"Any luck with the airlines?" Neal asked Del as his friend sat back down at their diner table.

"Nope," Del shook his head, "they're booked clean through, every one of them. Any luck with home?"

"No," Neal sighed. "And unless you have strong connections with somebody in the local transportation business, Del, I think we're essentially stuck here, wherever here is."

"Let's see, Ohio transportation..." Del thought this over for a minute, and then his face brightened. "I know. Gerald Schranz, one of the guys I knew when I was with American Light & Fixture, he works for Greyhound in Cincinnati. If we can just get there, I can just call him up since I know his number and see if he can get any openings on buses heading to Chicago."

"That's good, but the question would be how far are we from Cincinnati," Neal pointed out. "We could still be over two hundred miles from it."

"I know, I know, it's just that..." Del was interrupted by the diner's front door slamming open. A large heavy-set trucker ran in. "Hey Allen, I've got another one!" he shouted to the man behind the cash register.

"Where'd you find him?" the cashier asked, concerned.

"About nine miles down the road; he's frozen pretty solid!" the trucker said between deep breaths.

"Okay, I'll get everything set, Mack, you bring him in," the cashier told him.

"Right," the trucker ran back outside. The cashier ran over into the kitchen. "Get the grill up and running, Walt; Mack just found another guy frozen stiff!" he could be heard yelling.

"They're going to throw him on the grill!?" Del asked out loud to no one in particular.

"No, no," chuckled the man at the table next to him, "they'll just suspend him over it for a few minutes. Just until he defrosts."

"Okay," Del gave the man a wink and shot Neal an apprehensive glance.

Mack the trucker dashed back into the restaurant with the poor frozen soul in his arms. This man was completely frozen in ice with a bizarre expression on his face. And he was none other than...

"CLARK GRISWOLD!??" Neal and Del exclaimed simultaneously.

"What's he doing out here?" Neal asked in surprise of seeing a familiar face.

"Beats me," Del shrugged. "Well, I guess he's not taking his family to the Yukon like you guessed."

"Speaking of his family, where are they?" Neal said, glancing out the window. He knew the Griswold clan by sight, and yet none of them were visible outside. "You think they'd be here if..."

"Watch it Walt, the support's coming loose!" came a cry from the kitchen. It was too late, for there came a loud "OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!" and moments later, Clark ran into the diner area with his rear end on fire, shouting "HOT! HOT! HOT! HOT!" at the top of his lungs. He grabbed a glass of water off a nearby customer and doused his behind with a loud hiss of steam.

"You okay there, Clark?" Del asked, coming over to where he stood.

"Del!?" Clark asked, apparently surprised to see someone he knew, "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Del asked him.

"I don't know; one minute I'm walking alongside I-76 in brutal cold and the next thing I know, I'm burning alive back there," Clark gestured toward the kitchen.

"You were walking along I-76? You do know that they don't allow you to walk on an interstate, right?"

"Well, I was desperate," Clark said. "In fact I'm still desperate. I need to get back to Chicago before Christmas, so if you could give me a lift, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"Uh, we'd normally be happy to, Clark, but Neal and I don't have a vehicle," Del admitted.

"Oh, Neal's with you?" Clark scanned the diner for a minute before locating Neal by the window. "Hi there Neal," he waved. Neal forced a smile and waved back.

"You said just now you don't have a ride?" Mack the trucker asked Del. He'd been standing just over Clark's shoulder the whole time. "Where're you going?"

"Uh, my friend and I," Del gestured toward Neal, "were thinking of going to see if we can get a bus ride out of Cincinnati to Chicago."

"Well I was headed to Paducah when I found him," Mack pointed to Clark, "and Cincinnati's on the way, so if you'd like I can give you a lift."

"Yeah, I guess we'll take that," Del smiled. He turned to Neal for approval. Neal gave him a thumbs up. "Yeah, we'll be ready when you're ready."

"All right. Give me about ten minutes for breakfast and we'll be on our way," Mack shook his hand and headed for the counter.

"Uh, Del, would you and Neal mind if I came with you," Clark asked him.

"Like I said, I'm really in a pinch, and..."

"Of course Clark, it's Christmas, and you need a ride as much as we do," Del told him, patting him on the back. "So what were you doing walking the interstate all by yourself, anyway?"

"Uh, it's a long story, I'll explain a little later on," Clark said quickly.

"Hey buddy, what about my water you stole!?" demanded the man Clark had taken the water he'd put out his butt's fire with.

"Uh, okay, uh, um..." Clark looked around and saw a waiter coming out of the kitchen with several glasses of water on a tray, "just a minute , I'll have it for you." He strode over and plucked a glass off it before the waiter could react, but at the same time he tripped over the waiter's foot and fell forward. The glass shot out of his hand and hit the soda glass of the man at the end of the counter, which in turn tipped over onto the glass next to it, starting a large domino effect of glasses falling over all the way down the counter.

"Uh, check please, whole counter," Clark announced to the whole restaurant. He jumped to his feet and hurried for the door.

"Well, imagine seeing him here," Del mused as he put his coat on.

"Yes, imagine that," Neal muttered softly.

"You know, I think this will go quicker now with someone we know to keep us company," Del continued. "It does get a bit lonely on the road when you're..."

Neal wasn't really listening. He slowly got up and headed for the door as Del droned on and on. As far as he was concerned, the worst thing that could have happened to his attempt to get home had just happened.

"What do you mean you don't know where the plane landed!?" Kate fairly shouted at the American spokesman at the Des Moines airport. "It's been almost sixteen hours since it took off!"

"Please madam, calm..."

"No I most certainly will not calm down!" Kate screamed in his face. "Tell me where my son is!"

"The problem is, we're getting conflicting reports on..." the spokesman tried to explain, but Kate's patience was gone. "Fine, if you can't help me, I'll find someone who will!" she snapped and stormed off. It had been almost ten hours since she and the rest of the McCallisters had landed in Des Moines only to learn that the flight Kevin had been on hadn't made it to the airport. At first she'd been afraid that it had crashed somewhere in the heartland, but the American officials said that the plane was all right, just that the last radio transmission from it had been static-filled and the pilot as such hadn't been able to give them a precise account of his location. Kate hadn't slept all night, and had been to the American counter six times trying to get information, only to be told again and again that they were "working on it." And now there was the added concern of not knowing where her husband was either. There hadn't been any information from the airline on his whereabouts as well.

"Any luck, Mom?" Jeff asked her as she returned to the waiting area that the family had settled down in.

"No," Kate shook her head wearily, "nothing yet." She collapsed into the nearest open seat. "Oh, why does this have to happen every time we go on vacation!??" she moaned out loud.

"I don't know, but if you ask me, I think you'd better check the house to make sure there aren't any demons haunting the place," Frank cracked nearby.

"Oh shut up Frank!" Kate snapped at her brother-in-law.

"Hey don't tell me to shut up, Kate!" Frank shot back, "it's not my fault that you can't keep track of your family!"

"Well if I'm not mistaken Frank, this whole vacation was YOUR idea!" Kate barked, leaping to her feet in rage.

"Well you didn't have to go with us, Kate!" Frank jumped up to face her.

"You made the decision to come!"

"That doesn't make me responsible for Kevin's being lost!"

"Oh yes it..."

"Guys, guys!" Megan jumped in between her mother and uncle, "don't fight! We won't get out of this if we yell and scream at each other!"

Kate quickly collected herself. "I'm sorry, honey, I'm just...just..."

"We know, Mom," Megan told her with a small wink, "we're all feeling the same way."

Buzz snorted from his seat and turned back to his magazine.

"Kate McCallister, collect call, Mrs. Kate McCallister, collect call," came the PA system.

"Oh please be some good news!" Kate murmured as she dashed off toward the courtesy counter. The last thing she wanted to hear now was that they'd found Peter and Kevin frozen solid on some lonely road. "Phone call McCallister," she told the lady behind the counter.

"White phone," the woman gestured toward the bank of phones on the wall. Kate picked it up. "Hello?"

"Kate?" came Peter's voice from the other end.

"Oh Peter, thank god!" Kate breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Where are you?"

"Topeka."

"Topeka?"

"It was all I could get after the storm hit the Midwest," Peter admitted.

"Listen honey, I've found out where Kevin is."

"Really!?" Kate gasped in delight. "Where?"

"Wichita," Peter told her. "His plane had engine trouble and had to land there instead of Des Moines. I would have gone there, but the Wichita airport's shut down."

"Well, I wish you'd been here, because the airline's taking longer than it should in determining where he is," Kate sighed. "So when can you get here?"

"Actually, I've got a better idea," Peter explained. "They're telling me that it'll be about another six hours until Wichita reopens, so we can't go right there, but there's an open flight to Canton in about an hour and a half from here. Go see when the next one there leaves."

"All right," Kate put the receiver down. "Excuse me," she called over to the courtesy lady, "when does the next flight to Canton leave?"

"Do you mean Canton...?" the lady began.

"Yes, Canton," Kate cut her off.

"Okay," the woman typed something into her computer. "The next one leaves at about twelve forty-five," she told Kate.

"That's fine, thank you," Kate picked the receiver back up. "It's about two more hours here," she told her husband.

"Good," Peter said. "See you then."

"See you," Kate hung up and hustled back toward where her family was sitting.

"We're going to Canton in two hours," she announced.

"He's in Canton?" Aunt Leslie asked.

"No, he's in Wichita, but Peter will meet us in Canton, and we'll wait there until the Wichita airport re-opens," Kate explained.

"Where's he?"

"I just said, Wichita."

"No, Peter."

"Oh, he's in Topeka, waiting for Wichita to clear out. He'll be in Canton to meet us."

"I hope you don't expect us to pay extra for this," Uncle Frank quipped.

"No Frank, we can handle this without your assistance!" Kate shot him a harsh glare. "I'm going to buy the tickets now. With luck everything will be smooth sailing from here on."