Nail-biting and charcoal

In sequence, of course, not at the same time. This past weekend I had planned to visit Kristin for a cookout with some of her hometown friends. Rather than fighting the Friday afternoon in Los Angeles traffic alone, I decided to take a shuttle that picks up about 10 minutes from work and drops off right at the terminals at LAX. I arrived at the bus terminal about 5 minutes before the bus was scheduled to leave, but I couldn't buy a ticket for that bus (though it didn't look full.....) The next bus was slated to leave in a half hour, and I figured that would still give me time to get to the airport and check in. Well, 30 minutes became 45, and we finally departed around 3:50.

The ride could be done in about 45 minutes, but even in traffic shouldn't take much longer than an hour since the bus uses the carpool lane. But go figure, we were still on the freeway, crawling about 10mph down 405, as late as 5:05. My flight was scheduled for 5:25. I wasn't going to make it. (Omitted here is the series of phone calls I made while on the bus, trying to make contingency plans like getting a later flight out--didn't exist--or a morning flight--couldn't make it before noon--or flying to Chicago and borrowing my folks' car...) Getting off the bus, I found a Skycap and tipped him well; he handed my bag to the TSA guy, and I started ducking under the elastic-band barricades while running full-sprint through the security line. I felt like an asshole, but it was a necessary evil. I had to catch that flight.

And I did. I arrived at my gate to claim my boarding pass as the second group was called. I got off the plane in Indy around 11:30 local time, greeted by Kristin at the baggage claim.

Saturday was great. The cookout that K had planned consumed most of our day--save for a lunch with her sister--between getting the lake house prepared and the appetizers and sides cooked. Her friends started showing up around 4:30, toting sides, beer, and funny stories about their young children (e.g. the 2-1/2 year old who is almost potty-trained: he poops anywhere and everywhere in the house but picks it up and places it in the toilet...). As it got darker and later, more friends arrived, more beer was consumed, and we had fires in the forms of charcoal in the grill and wood in the pit. A lot of laughing, a lot of meat and dip and pasta salad and cookies, a few games of cards, moonlight reflecting off the lake, K's dogs playing under the stars, and conversation about small town and small world: these were the diversions of the evening.

Sunday was consumed by the cleanup effort and the usual "get ready to go back to the city and the working world" that weekend visits always include. We drove back to Indy and Kristin waited with me at the airport till I had to go to my gate. The goodbyes are always the hardest part, and the weekends always go by too quickly. But this weekend was so simple, and, except for the anxiety of nearly missing a plane, so wonderful, that it was extra-difficult to see its conclusion.