Only Outweighed By

Last night was lovely.  We sat on the porch and chatted with guests till it was rather late.  And I told them, I need to get up at 5:00AM.  Eventually it’s time for my admission “I really need to head to bed.  You guys continue on.”  5:00AM came quickly.  Stumbling about with the things I’d left out for myself.  Get it all in the bags in the car, quickly.  Get a new pair of contacts in.  Over in the guest room I hear one of our guest snoring and though I don’t know why, it makes me smile.  I’m glad he’s resting.

I’m off on my way early.  I will drive south for an hour return a car and call an Uber for the remaining ride out to the airport.  The night before I tried to pre-order a car with Uber.  It seems they’ve made this available, but the link to the app that’s supposed to make all this available doesn’t work.  I wing it.  We’ll try later.

Now I’m late. I’ll have to start ordering this car before I get there.  With fifteen minutes to go, in the rain on the Rt. 684, I started to beam out my request for an Uber.  There are rides in the area.  This is good.  It won’t be long.  It beams and it beams.  The fair is worth nearly $100.00.  We’ll be heading to an airport which should be easy enough to get the next ride from.  My request times out.  It does again and then again.  By now I’ve arrived at the drop off spot.  My tension about having to find a car is only out weighed by the need to relieve myself.  I don’t have many options.  I don’t see any paper around in the car I was driving.  A receipt will need to do. 

I’m certain at this point that I will miss this flight and start considering all the people I’ll need to call about that out in SF.  My phone, which is desperately charging in the vehicle I just drove, suggest that a driver is on the way.  Really?  Cool. 

My driver’s great.  He analyzes the situation and suggests that we will definitely make the flight.  I find this almost impossible to believe but I like his spirit.  Watching our progress on the GPS is like a video game I am utterly distracted by the drama to do any of the work I had been planning to during our ride.  Will we make it?  Minutes are shaved off and then, they return.  The approach up to the George Washington Bridge is remarkably swift.  I start sorting through strategies for working with the curbside check-in guys whom I don’t usually work with.  He insists that they’re the only way to make it work on time. 

An older curb side attendant with a Jamaican accent is not particularly interested in helping me pull off the impossible.  He dawdles when he should be hustling.  A second excuse.  A sigh.  It’s clear I’m not make it. I cajole and push but it’s no use.  I’ll need to go stand-by on the next flight.

Tuesday, 7/25/17