You've seen the Christmas scenario several times before on sitcoms: a family member is coming home for Christmas, but bad luck strikes and the characters are separated. It can be funny, until you live it. Then, you can only hope for the corny ending where everyone gets to gather around the fireplace and exclaim that they've discovered again the true meaning of Christmas.

For my family? We've decided that the little brother is no longer allowed to travel. Ever. Bad luck of the sitcom variety seems to follow him whenever he travels for the holidays.

First it was the drama of Thanksgiving, where his bus in from Hollywood back up to meet us for the Holiday was delayed by criminal activity and subsequent police interviews, followed by a the missed transfer that left him stranded in an unfamiliar town without food for four hours. Then the trip back, where missed transfers due to slow traffic left him stranded 18 miles away from his college dorm in the middle of the night, with no bus available for two more days.

This time, we decided to fly him out. This sounded good at the time. Who would know that a little snow would cause so much trouble? After all, it's been years since we actually had snow worth considering here, right?

The flight from Los Angeles to Portland? Canceled, of course. No big deal! A quick change of plans and we got him a nonstop to Seattle. A three or four hour drive, my mother and sister could make it.

Problem: while circling over Seattle, the gate where he was supposed to land was closed, and his flight was redirected to Spokane. Which, of course, is 284 miles from SeaTac. Another four hours. So while my mother and sister waited at Seattle for my brother, he went another four miles away – and by this time, both were stuck and could not go much of anywhere.

Today, the brother waits for another possible plane back in to PDX, and my mother and sister wait in Vancouver for the thaw.

I'm really hoping for the fireplace scene. Any time now.