Saturday, October 28, 2006
I woke up at 7, more than enough time. I showered, I printed up my boarding pass, I put the last few things in my suitcase. I even stood around in the apartment for a few minutes, thinking, "I don't need to leave just yet. I'm well ahead of schedule."
I got in the car. I took a special route to avoid construction. A little over half way to the airport I glanced into the backseat and realized... I'd left my suitcase back at the apartment.
General panicking and cursing ensued. Could I just go catch my flight without my suitcase? No. I sped back home, grabbed my suitcase, hopped in a cab. No time to drive myself. During the expensive cab ride I texted Sarah, letting her know everything that had happened. Her response: "Bullshit." Still, I got to the airport in time.
Airline Counter Person: Where are you flying to today?
Me: Boston.
Airline Counter Person: You know your flight's canceled, right?
And on and on like that. But by 8pm, I was in Boston's North End, stepping out of a cab, suitcase in hand, as a street performer played the theme to the Godfather on an accordion.
