I'm taking a brief break from our regularly scheduled programming, to share this with you:
http://blogs.wsj.com/metropolis/2011/07/11/aerialist-performs-stunt-from-williamsburg-bridge-tower/?mod=wsj_share_facebook
This is an article about my fantastic friend Seanna Sharpe, performing an amazing feat from the Williamsburg Bridge!
And here's a video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6G4rTaftAiY&feature=share
Rock on, Seanna!!!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Berlin: 7.1.11
Thank you for last night, Berlin. That's exactly what I came to you for.
We decided to spend Thursday trying to find a good club - not a little bar, but a big rocking danceclub. Jon mapped a few on his phone and off we went, in search of adventure
Adventure eluded us at first. The bars all seemed quiet, empty, and smaller than what we were looking for, but we decided to have a drink at a brightly-colored joint called Blond that I'd read about. It wasn't big, nor was there any dancing, but it had customers, at least. I sipped a tasty prosecco and creme de cassis drink, while Jon downed a gin martini.
We decided to move on when our drinks became empty glasses, still itching to find somewhere we could dance - but everywhere we looked was either small, empty, or closing. Eventually, only two options remained: a thoroughly deserted bar named El Dorado, or a bar called Tramps that had no windows, so we couldn't see if it was busy, but that sounded as though it had customers. We settled on the latter, and entered.
Jon ordered a beer from the bar as a man named Harkhan introduced himself to us and began telling us all about life in Berlin. Then we met Marcus, who stumbled over to apologize for being so drunk, and added that he was friends with Alex, the bartender, so his intoxication was perfectly acceptable. He could hardly remain upright on his barstool, and the table he was leaning against nearly tipped over countless times.
But best of all, he was missing a very prominent tooth and had only one good eye - the other was mostly closed at all times, and no iris could be spotted no matter how hard I looked. Just pure white, and pure insanity. He asked my name repeatedly throughout the night, gleefully shouting "Alice in Wonderland!" each time I told him, because my name sounds like "Alice" when said with a German accent. He also decided that shoving ice down Jon's and my shirts, over and over again, was a good way to pass the time.
I talked more with Harkhan, who introduced me to the bartender as "Alice in Wonderland" without even having heard Marcus call me the same, and met a girl named Rishi who introduced me to her gang as - you guessed it - Alice in Wonderland, before buying Jon and I shots. I admired a necklace she was wearing, so she put it around my neck, told me to keep it, and wrapped my grey, leopard print scarf around her neck in return.
From there things went straight downhill, in the best possible way. Marcus bought Jon and I a few rounds of Jager shots and told me that I reminded him of a female Johnny Depp. He never explained why. He told us that he's a chef, and attempted to explain why that made him an alcoholic and a cocaine addict, but the reasoning was quite unclear (or maybe I was just too focused on his crazy, rolling eye to care). He offered me coke, but I told him that I don't do it. He offered me speed instead, and I declined. "Do you do anything?" he asked. "Weed?" I told him no. "Ecstasy?" He probably could have gone on forever, offering me drugs I'd never even heard of, so I simply laughed and returned to other conversations.
Jon and I started talking to another man - whose name now escapes me - who had lived in Atlanta, Georgia for many years and had spent 18 months in prison there for dealing drugs (coke, ecstasy, meth). He proudly showed off his tattoos ("Easy money" across his fingers, and something else I couldn't decipher on the backs of both hands) and his prison ID. He was only 28, but he looked much older. Drugs and incarceration do no favors for the aging process, as it turns out. We discussed the girl he'd left behind in America and their daughter together, as well as Berlin's infamous nightclub scene.
In the background, Marcus petulantly grabbed every glass ashtray he could find on the bar and hurled them, one by one, at the floor.
Then Rishi announced that we were all going to another establishment nearby called Blue Boy. I said my goodbyes to Alex, who said I was welcome back any time, to Marcus, who announced that I was very cool and gave me a very clumsy kiss on the cheek, and to Harkhan.
We walked around the corner and Rishi buzzed the door of a nondescript building. She spoke briefly with the bouncer, clearly a regular, and he waved us in. "Lady Gaga!" exclaimed the bartender, whose name, I later learned, was Tequila. Rishi lead us to a large table in the back where 3 other men were already sitting. "Alice in Wonderland," she said, by way of introduction. "Lady Gaga!!" shouted Tequila.
We sat down and Rishi ordered a round of vodka and Redbull for everyone. Jon chatted with the 3 other men about the beginning of our night, while Rishi and I used an odd mix of German and English to discuss my relationship with Jon and how expensive the drinks were. She said she's seeing someone, pointing to a ring on her right hand, and showed me pictures of her honey.
At some point she left to take a phone call, and I joined the boys' conversation. One asked if I could speak Spanish, so I responded with "solo un poco." He seemed thrilled at my extremely basic use of the language, so I added "et je parle un peu de francais," "und ich spreche ein bisschen Deutsch," "и я говорю немного по-русски." He became even more excited. "по-русски?" he shouted. "я говорю по-русски!" Suddenly, all 3 of the other men were speaking Russian with us. "Nostrovia!" I said, as we all clinked glasses.
Rishi had completely disappeared by this time, so a man who had been sitting across the room took her seat next to me. He was Romanian, he explained, and had never been to the United States despite his fluent English and American girlfriend. We discussed music, education, psychology, and writing, while Jon went in search of Rishi, who had run off with his sunglasses. He returned a short while later with the glasses in hand and the announcement that he had seen Marcus outside, surround by 3 police officers. That seemed like as good a time as any to call it a night, so we bade farewell to our new friends and made our exit into the blindingly-bright light of the Berlin morning, and home to bed.
<3
We decided to spend Thursday trying to find a good club - not a little bar, but a big rocking danceclub. Jon mapped a few on his phone and off we went, in search of adventure
Adventure eluded us at first. The bars all seemed quiet, empty, and smaller than what we were looking for, but we decided to have a drink at a brightly-colored joint called Blond that I'd read about. It wasn't big, nor was there any dancing, but it had customers, at least. I sipped a tasty prosecco and creme de cassis drink, while Jon downed a gin martini.
We decided to move on when our drinks became empty glasses, still itching to find somewhere we could dance - but everywhere we looked was either small, empty, or closing. Eventually, only two options remained: a thoroughly deserted bar named El Dorado, or a bar called Tramps that had no windows, so we couldn't see if it was busy, but that sounded as though it had customers. We settled on the latter, and entered.
Jon ordered a beer from the bar as a man named Harkhan introduced himself to us and began telling us all about life in Berlin. Then we met Marcus, who stumbled over to apologize for being so drunk, and added that he was friends with Alex, the bartender, so his intoxication was perfectly acceptable. He could hardly remain upright on his barstool, and the table he was leaning against nearly tipped over countless times.
But best of all, he was missing a very prominent tooth and had only one good eye - the other was mostly closed at all times, and no iris could be spotted no matter how hard I looked. Just pure white, and pure insanity. He asked my name repeatedly throughout the night, gleefully shouting "Alice in Wonderland!" each time I told him, because my name sounds like "Alice" when said with a German accent. He also decided that shoving ice down Jon's and my shirts, over and over again, was a good way to pass the time.
I talked more with Harkhan, who introduced me to the bartender as "Alice in Wonderland" without even having heard Marcus call me the same, and met a girl named Rishi who introduced me to her gang as - you guessed it - Alice in Wonderland, before buying Jon and I shots. I admired a necklace she was wearing, so she put it around my neck, told me to keep it, and wrapped my grey, leopard print scarf around her neck in return.
From there things went straight downhill, in the best possible way. Marcus bought Jon and I a few rounds of Jager shots and told me that I reminded him of a female Johnny Depp. He never explained why. He told us that he's a chef, and attempted to explain why that made him an alcoholic and a cocaine addict, but the reasoning was quite unclear (or maybe I was just too focused on his crazy, rolling eye to care). He offered me coke, but I told him that I don't do it. He offered me speed instead, and I declined. "Do you do anything?" he asked. "Weed?" I told him no. "Ecstasy?" He probably could have gone on forever, offering me drugs I'd never even heard of, so I simply laughed and returned to other conversations.
Jon and I started talking to another man - whose name now escapes me - who had lived in Atlanta, Georgia for many years and had spent 18 months in prison there for dealing drugs (coke, ecstasy, meth). He proudly showed off his tattoos ("Easy money" across his fingers, and something else I couldn't decipher on the backs of both hands) and his prison ID. He was only 28, but he looked much older. Drugs and incarceration do no favors for the aging process, as it turns out. We discussed the girl he'd left behind in America and their daughter together, as well as Berlin's infamous nightclub scene.
In the background, Marcus petulantly grabbed every glass ashtray he could find on the bar and hurled them, one by one, at the floor.
Then Rishi announced that we were all going to another establishment nearby called Blue Boy. I said my goodbyes to Alex, who said I was welcome back any time, to Marcus, who announced that I was very cool and gave me a very clumsy kiss on the cheek, and to Harkhan.
We walked around the corner and Rishi buzzed the door of a nondescript building. She spoke briefly with the bouncer, clearly a regular, and he waved us in. "Lady Gaga!" exclaimed the bartender, whose name, I later learned, was Tequila. Rishi lead us to a large table in the back where 3 other men were already sitting. "Alice in Wonderland," she said, by way of introduction. "Lady Gaga!!" shouted Tequila.
We sat down and Rishi ordered a round of vodka and Redbull for everyone. Jon chatted with the 3 other men about the beginning of our night, while Rishi and I used an odd mix of German and English to discuss my relationship with Jon and how expensive the drinks were. She said she's seeing someone, pointing to a ring on her right hand, and showed me pictures of her honey.
At some point she left to take a phone call, and I joined the boys' conversation. One asked if I could speak Spanish, so I responded with "solo un poco." He seemed thrilled at my extremely basic use of the language, so I added "et je parle un peu de francais," "und ich spreche ein bisschen Deutsch," "и я говорю немного по-русски." He became even more excited. "по-русски?" he shouted. "я говорю по-русски!" Suddenly, all 3 of the other men were speaking Russian with us. "Nostrovia!" I said, as we all clinked glasses.
Rishi had completely disappeared by this time, so a man who had been sitting across the room took her seat next to me. He was Romanian, he explained, and had never been to the United States despite his fluent English and American girlfriend. We discussed music, education, psychology, and writing, while Jon went in search of Rishi, who had run off with his sunglasses. He returned a short while later with the glasses in hand and the announcement that he had seen Marcus outside, surround by 3 police officers. That seemed like as good a time as any to call it a night, so we bade farewell to our new friends and made our exit into the blindingly-bright light of the Berlin morning, and home to bed.
<3
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Berlin: 6.30.11
Berlin, Berlin, Berlin.
I arrived in the city, as I explained to my family, safe but not entirely sound. I managed to twist my ankle while entering our hotel, and though it didn't swell much it won't take all of my weight and it's sore when I walk on it. The location of the hotel made up for my ankle's deficiencies, fortunately: we are in central Schoneberg, just up the street from the apartment building in which David Bowie used to live and a restaurant at which Jocelyn and I enjoyed glasses of wine during our last trip.
Our stay so far has been very low-key. We tried out an "American rock bar" on our first night, but it was nearly empty since it was a Sunday evening. We returned to The Green Door, a supposedly "hidden" and "exclusive" bar with an extensive cocktail menu that we visited in April, and Hafen, a small bar that we also visited on that trip, on Monday. We explored a few local joints on Tuesday, and spent Wednesday in, getting work done. Our nightlife experiences haven't been particularly memorable so far, perhaps with the exception of a magician we encountered at The Green Door and a waitress who had spent some time living in Miami that we met at a Cuban restaurant. She brought us free shots, for being kindred Miami-dwelling spirits.
Our daytimes, so far, have been more active. they are primarily occupied with work, of course, as they should be, but we've managed to find time for a few other pursuits. On our first morning, Jon snuck out while I was still in bed and returned with caviar, mozzarella, mini toast-like bread pieces, prosciutto, and orange juice. Talk about a lovely breakfast! We also payed a visit to Schwarzes Cafe, our favorite discovery of the last visit. It was delightful to be back - it feels like what Berlin is supposed to be to me. Afterwards we relaxed in a nearby park, working and reading.
the next day we ventured out to a shabu shabu restaurant I had read about online. It was a bit expensive, but it was delicious and it came with a lot of food: 3 kinds of mushroom, chicken, a couple kinds of leafy greenery, salmon, shrimp, 3 kinds of fishballs, 3 kinds of noodles, squid and, of course, thinly sliced beef. Very tasty.
After lunch, I had to rush home to take a phone call with my two learning partners from the coaching class I had just finished. Since it was our final call together we'd planned to do a coaching triad: 1 coach, 1 client, 1 observer who critiques the interaction. It was a terrifying prospect - I had never practice coached before, not ever, not in any context. Somehow I had made it through 3 classes without practicing a single time. Clearly I needed to, since it's the only way to really learn, but I was so scared of being bad! I've never been good at making myself do things (publicly, at least) that I don't think I'll be good at, but this time I had no choice.
And you know what? It went surprisingly well! I volunteered to coach first (Classic trick from the school presentation days - go first so you look brave and there's no one to compare you to!), and though I started off on slightly shaky ground, I soon found my footing and felt much more comfortable. We even arrived at a solution to my "coachee's" problem! It felt fantastic, especially when we'd switched roles and, as coaches, neither of the others managed to lead their "clients" to a strategy. In an email afterwards, both of them also mentioned my coaching session as the most helpful and interesting of the three. So although it was not a perfect session, I feel good about it. And now that my first session is done, I feel much more confident and excited about coaching in general.
I think that's about it for now...the highlights of my trip so far!
I arrived in the city, as I explained to my family, safe but not entirely sound. I managed to twist my ankle while entering our hotel, and though it didn't swell much it won't take all of my weight and it's sore when I walk on it. The location of the hotel made up for my ankle's deficiencies, fortunately: we are in central Schoneberg, just up the street from the apartment building in which David Bowie used to live and a restaurant at which Jocelyn and I enjoyed glasses of wine during our last trip.
Our stay so far has been very low-key. We tried out an "American rock bar" on our first night, but it was nearly empty since it was a Sunday evening. We returned to The Green Door, a supposedly "hidden" and "exclusive" bar with an extensive cocktail menu that we visited in April, and Hafen, a small bar that we also visited on that trip, on Monday. We explored a few local joints on Tuesday, and spent Wednesday in, getting work done. Our nightlife experiences haven't been particularly memorable so far, perhaps with the exception of a magician we encountered at The Green Door and a waitress who had spent some time living in Miami that we met at a Cuban restaurant. She brought us free shots, for being kindred Miami-dwelling spirits.
Our daytimes, so far, have been more active. they are primarily occupied with work, of course, as they should be, but we've managed to find time for a few other pursuits. On our first morning, Jon snuck out while I was still in bed and returned with caviar, mozzarella, mini toast-like bread pieces, prosciutto, and orange juice. Talk about a lovely breakfast! We also payed a visit to Schwarzes Cafe, our favorite discovery of the last visit. It was delightful to be back - it feels like what Berlin is supposed to be to me. Afterwards we relaxed in a nearby park, working and reading.
the next day we ventured out to a shabu shabu restaurant I had read about online. It was a bit expensive, but it was delicious and it came with a lot of food: 3 kinds of mushroom, chicken, a couple kinds of leafy greenery, salmon, shrimp, 3 kinds of fishballs, 3 kinds of noodles, squid and, of course, thinly sliced beef. Very tasty.
After lunch, I had to rush home to take a phone call with my two learning partners from the coaching class I had just finished. Since it was our final call together we'd planned to do a coaching triad: 1 coach, 1 client, 1 observer who critiques the interaction. It was a terrifying prospect - I had never practice coached before, not ever, not in any context. Somehow I had made it through 3 classes without practicing a single time. Clearly I needed to, since it's the only way to really learn, but I was so scared of being bad! I've never been good at making myself do things (publicly, at least) that I don't think I'll be good at, but this time I had no choice.
And you know what? It went surprisingly well! I volunteered to coach first (Classic trick from the school presentation days - go first so you look brave and there's no one to compare you to!), and though I started off on slightly shaky ground, I soon found my footing and felt much more comfortable. We even arrived at a solution to my "coachee's" problem! It felt fantastic, especially when we'd switched roles and, as coaches, neither of the others managed to lead their "clients" to a strategy. In an email afterwards, both of them also mentioned my coaching session as the most helpful and interesting of the three. So although it was not a perfect session, I feel good about it. And now that my first session is done, I feel much more confident and excited about coaching in general.
I think that's about it for now...the highlights of my trip so far!
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Berlin: 6.25.11
And so it begins again.
I am excited about all beginnings, but this one will be remembered as particularly thrilling. 5 days ago, I had no plans to travel, to Berlin or anywhere else. Jon and I had discussed spending July there after falling in love with the city in April, but tickets proved to be prohibitively expensive and we had to abandon the idea. But just when I had resigned myself to summer in New York - and was even beginning to look forward to the idea - the winds of whim whipped through my little Manhattan studio. Jon checked ticket prices, and there it was: Newark to Berlin, for $270.
No self-respecting nomad could pass up an opportunity (and a fare) like that, so within minutes our flights were booked, I had a last minute hair appointment, and my apartment was listed on Craigslist. We decided to keep our sudden change of plans to ourselves, and announce that we were going to Berlin...well...after we were in Berlin.
For a trip that was conceived of, planned, and embarked upon in five days, things have been surprisingly smooth. I found a subletter immediately, and since I had just returned from another trip my life was practically already packed. Anything that needed to be in storage was already there, so preparing to leave was as simple as cleaning the apartment and throwing my clothes in a bag. Before you could say "Wham bam thank you ma'am," I was packed and ready to go. Our journey to Newark went off without a hitch, as did our flights from there to Keflavik, Iceland, and from Iceland to Berlin. Iceland Express leaves something to be desired (free beverages, most notably), but the fare was so spectacular that I suppose I shouldn't complain.
What can I say about Berlin? I have fallen in love with the city, though I often fear that I've fallen for Berlin-that-was rather than Berlin-that-is. Still, that's consistent with my personality, as I have always been an anachronism, and I don't believe that anyone or anything can ever fully escape their history, so I'm sure I will find my beloved Berlin of antiquity hiding somewhere within the modern city. I want the Berlin of Isherwood and Sally Bowles. I want the decadence of the Weimar Republic. I want to be inspired by the underground burlesque of Berlin-then and the underground techno of Berlin-now.
That's really all I want: to be inspired. To be swept up. To be engulfed. To feel that I have been a part of something that others will not and can not, and to become a better writer and a more interesting person because of it.
I have faith that Berlin, lovely city that she is, city of the beautiful and damned, can get me there.
I am excited about all beginnings, but this one will be remembered as particularly thrilling. 5 days ago, I had no plans to travel, to Berlin or anywhere else. Jon and I had discussed spending July there after falling in love with the city in April, but tickets proved to be prohibitively expensive and we had to abandon the idea. But just when I had resigned myself to summer in New York - and was even beginning to look forward to the idea - the winds of whim whipped through my little Manhattan studio. Jon checked ticket prices, and there it was: Newark to Berlin, for $270.
No self-respecting nomad could pass up an opportunity (and a fare) like that, so within minutes our flights were booked, I had a last minute hair appointment, and my apartment was listed on Craigslist. We decided to keep our sudden change of plans to ourselves, and announce that we were going to Berlin...well...after we were in Berlin.
For a trip that was conceived of, planned, and embarked upon in five days, things have been surprisingly smooth. I found a subletter immediately, and since I had just returned from another trip my life was practically already packed. Anything that needed to be in storage was already there, so preparing to leave was as simple as cleaning the apartment and throwing my clothes in a bag. Before you could say "Wham bam thank you ma'am," I was packed and ready to go. Our journey to Newark went off without a hitch, as did our flights from there to Keflavik, Iceland, and from Iceland to Berlin. Iceland Express leaves something to be desired (free beverages, most notably), but the fare was so spectacular that I suppose I shouldn't complain.
What can I say about Berlin? I have fallen in love with the city, though I often fear that I've fallen for Berlin-that-was rather than Berlin-that-is. Still, that's consistent with my personality, as I have always been an anachronism, and I don't believe that anyone or anything can ever fully escape their history, so I'm sure I will find my beloved Berlin of antiquity hiding somewhere within the modern city. I want the Berlin of Isherwood and Sally Bowles. I want the decadence of the Weimar Republic. I want to be inspired by the underground burlesque of Berlin-then and the underground techno of Berlin-now.
That's really all I want: to be inspired. To be swept up. To be engulfed. To feel that I have been a part of something that others will not and can not, and to become a better writer and a more interesting person because of it.
I have faith that Berlin, lovely city that she is, city of the beautiful and damned, can get me there.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Malta: 4.4.11
Hello, dearest readers, we meet again!
I am once more writing to you from the blissful Mediterranean shores of Malta, and words cannot express how pleased I am about it.
The first foreign adventure of 2011 could not possibly have begun in a more adventurous manner...
Having spent the month of March soaking up the culture of Miami (such as it is) Jon and I and our newest partner-in-traveling-crime, Jocelyn, were scheduled to depart from the Miami airport at 4:20pm on Friday, April 1st, 2011. But like all great travel stories, this tale begins with a day that didn't go exactly to plan. Like the responsible, mature adults that we are, Jocelyn and I spent the night before the trip packing and tidying up our American affairs - Jon, on the other hand, spent the evening out and about, willfully ignoring my suggestion that it might be more prudent to treat the second to last day in Miami as the finale celebration, thereby allowing ourselves to have the final night to prepare and a morning free of stress.
Jon decided not to listen to me. You'd think, after 4+ years together, that he would know better... ;) But he choose to disregard my advice and the results were, of course, disastrous.
By noon, Jocelyn and I were ready to drop a package off at the post office and head to the airport for our flight. By noon, Jon was running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. He'd awakened later than he'd expected (but not later than I - in my infinite wisdom - had expected), and proceeded to frantically pack his bag for the trip and pack up the rest of his life so that he could vacate his office. I ended up with the highly desirable job of standing by the car, in the pouring rain, while Jon and Jocelyn loaded it at a pace that can only be described as geriatric. What's better than a transatlantic flight? A transatlantic flight endured while damp. Needless to say, I'd had happier moments than that particular afternoon...
Jon finally left for the storage unit, leaving Jocelyn and I with the tasks of cleaning out the rest of his office and mailing a package to Australia for him. We dashed back into the office, packed all the remaining things up, and ran outside to find a cab to take us to the post office. The post office was, of course, an utter mess. We had to wait in line, fill out tons of forms, and redo one of the packages because the woman who helped us prepare it gave us the wrong instructions. I'll spare you the rest of the tedious details, and simply say that we wrapped up our business at the P.O. eventually, and rushed back outside to find another cab. It took us longer than we wanted to find it, but the universe blessed us with the perfect cab driver - he allowed both of us, once we'd arrived at the office, to run upstairs to grab our things without any kind of a guarantee of a fare. When we returned downstairs, he was still waiting for us with the trunk open and ready for our luggage. As he sped off towards the airport, I received the text I'd been dreading from Jon:
I am once more writing to you from the blissful Mediterranean shores of Malta, and words cannot express how pleased I am about it.
The first foreign adventure of 2011 could not possibly have begun in a more adventurous manner...
Having spent the month of March soaking up the culture of Miami (such as it is) Jon and I and our newest partner-in-traveling-crime, Jocelyn, were scheduled to depart from the Miami airport at 4:20pm on Friday, April 1st, 2011. But like all great travel stories, this tale begins with a day that didn't go exactly to plan. Like the responsible, mature adults that we are, Jocelyn and I spent the night before the trip packing and tidying up our American affairs - Jon, on the other hand, spent the evening out and about, willfully ignoring my suggestion that it might be more prudent to treat the second to last day in Miami as the finale celebration, thereby allowing ourselves to have the final night to prepare and a morning free of stress.
Jon decided not to listen to me. You'd think, after 4+ years together, that he would know better... ;) But he choose to disregard my advice and the results were, of course, disastrous.
By noon, Jocelyn and I were ready to drop a package off at the post office and head to the airport for our flight. By noon, Jon was running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. He'd awakened later than he'd expected (but not later than I - in my infinite wisdom - had expected), and proceeded to frantically pack his bag for the trip and pack up the rest of his life so that he could vacate his office. I ended up with the highly desirable job of standing by the car, in the pouring rain, while Jon and Jocelyn loaded it at a pace that can only be described as geriatric. What's better than a transatlantic flight? A transatlantic flight endured while damp. Needless to say, I'd had happier moments than that particular afternoon...
Jon finally left for the storage unit, leaving Jocelyn and I with the tasks of cleaning out the rest of his office and mailing a package to Australia for him. We dashed back into the office, packed all the remaining things up, and ran outside to find a cab to take us to the post office. The post office was, of course, an utter mess. We had to wait in line, fill out tons of forms, and redo one of the packages because the woman who helped us prepare it gave us the wrong instructions. I'll spare you the rest of the tedious details, and simply say that we wrapped up our business at the P.O. eventually, and rushed back outside to find another cab. It took us longer than we wanted to find it, but the universe blessed us with the perfect cab driver - he allowed both of us, once we'd arrived at the office, to run upstairs to grab our things without any kind of a guarantee of a fare. When we returned downstairs, he was still waiting for us with the trunk open and ready for our luggage. As he sped off towards the airport, I received the text I'd been dreading from Jon:
"Won't make it. Have a safe flight. I love you."
Though quite possibly more stressed than I have ever been in my life, Jocelyn and I pulled up to the airport with 8 minutes to spare. We tipped the driver handsomely, grabbed our things, and ran inside...
...in the wrong direction.
Fortunately we realized our mistake fairly quickly, and were given "Fast Track" stickers with our boarding passes that allowed us to skip to the front of the security line. We passed through without a hitch, and arrived at our gate before boarding began.
Crisis - just barely - averted.
...in the wrong direction.
Fortunately we realized our mistake fairly quickly, and were given "Fast Track" stickers with our boarding passes that allowed us to skip to the front of the security line. We passed through without a hitch, and arrived at our gate before boarding began.
Crisis - just barely - averted.
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