Let's see...what was I supposed to do today?
Get into a cab at 4:30am with Tom Waits's long-lost drunk and crazy cab driver brother? Check.
Fly back to New York at the crack of dawn? Check. (It was a first class ticket--thank you, Rob! All other flights will now pale in comparison.)
Eat a bagel that was quite possibly made of rubber? Check.
Get in a fight with another cab driver over the ridiculous fare to Jersey City, and then end the fight by trying unsuccessfully to bribe him? Check.
Take myself shoe shopping in Soho because I packed every pair of black shoes I own and they are now all traveling together across the country with a big, red-nosed man named Dave? Check. As an aside, before I realized that Dave was going to be driving the truck with all of our belongings in it (I thought he was just the Leader of the Moving Guys), I gave him a full and unopened bottle of rum, which Rob and I were never planning on drinking. "I'm no rummy dummy," said Dave, pocketing the bottle in his giant pants. Later, I reconsidered the intelligence of this particular gift, and I really hope Dave and our stuff make it to San Francisco unscathed.
Dine solo at the bar in an Italian restaurant in Tribeca? Check. Do NOT feel sorry for me. I don't mind eating alone and the risotto was really good.
Sit through the hotel fire alarm for 15 minutes, while a voice intermittently told us to "stand by" for further instruction? And finally become so frustrated, that I called the front desk to demand that they decide whether or not there was a fire, and, if not, to stop tormenting the guests? Check.
Get tons of calls, emails and texts from all of my wonderful friends and family wishing me a happy birthday? Check. Thanks guys. I love you. I am letting the cab rides, alarms, and moving stress go. I'm too old for that.
Jack is TWO!
3 years ago