Tuesday, March 4, 2003

homeward

We aren't exactly rolling out of bed early. But when I finally get up FFP has already had a shower. I send him to get himself a muffin and me some coffee and I do some packing. Once we are packed, I tell him I want to go to the Times Square Toys 'R Us. He goes along to please me, but in the end, enjoys all the fantastic displays.

When we are finished gawking at the store, we go back and gather our luggage, check out and store it with the bellman. Then we walk over to Grand Central and just look around. I wish we'd gone to the Oyster Bar this trip. I wish I'd gone there any trip. Seems like I might have even done it many years ago. We go back to Sofitel and eat a good lunch, though, and then wait in the library of the hotel for our car service. The rat people are still harassing tourists and trying to block traffic. We get away OK. "Thanks for checking out!" they call. I wanted to fire back, "Thanks for helping make my stay in your city so, so pleasant, a-----s." But, really, since we couldn't hear them in our room it wasn't too bad.

We are at the airport too early. I forget my cell phone is in my pocket and end up getting grief over a couple of pills in foil, Blistex and other stuff that, by itself, would have gone through unnoticed. Still, why not be wanded and take off your shoes and stuff except that they are careless with the things they take away and scan like your wallet and such. Better to remember the cell phone and give them less opportunity for carelessness and larceny. I'm finally all put back together and we are on our way, sitting and waiting for the plane. With plenty of time to spare. Too much time. A lot of people with too much carry-on luggage will delay our take-off anyway. And there is nothing we can do about it.

We make it to Dallas with little time to spare and have to rush for the train and such but, in the end, we make it and get home and get all our luggage and quickly catch the bus and get our car and, when we pay for parking, they give us two bottles of water and that tastes good on the way home.

It's always good to get home. Isn't it?

FFP with an NBA player made from lego blocks at Toys 'R Us Times Square

"On several occasions I have actually read parts of my diary aloud to someone. But too much 'publicity' is destructive to a diary, because the diarist begins, unconsciously perhaps, to leave out, to tone down, to pep up, to falsify experience, and the reason for the undertaking becomes buried beneath posings."

Gail Godwin, A Diarist on Diarists

 

JUST TYPING
When it time to go.
You see things you'd like to do.
Eat at the Oyster Bar in Grand Central.
Go somewhere on a train.
For that matter.
But it's time to pack.
To go, too early, to the airport.
To endure the flying.
To be home.