Back in Acton
Our return flight, in spite of Matrix-depriving sleep, felt flawless. Brian and I sat together across from Matt and Diane, and while I wasn’t reading The Big Bad Wolf (on loan from Matt) or napping, we talked about partitioning, scsi drives,Intelligent design (described in a Globe column this morning as “Creationism in sheep’s clothing.â€), the Middle East, how to destroy the earth, digital cameras (he filled a gigabyte card and drained but one battery) and the fragility of the airline industry. “One shoulder fired SAM and it all goes away.â€
The single glitch revolved around the Park and Fly shuttle that ferried us from the airport to the offsite (call it cheaper, not cheapo) parking lot. A truly Twilight Zone-esque experience with a near mutiny by passengers crammed and trapped inside this dimly lit shuttle with filthy, near opaque windows and a slow moving driver who couldn’t decipher the spoken word.
We all had to yell out our vehicle ticket numbers and Diane repeated “oh938oh8†four times before Matt boomed-in with his best, and I might say on the verge of murderous, baritone, “OH938OH8.â€
“Oh?†the driver asked again.
“Zero938Zero8,†Matt replied.
“OhZero938oh8?â€
Matt’s arms snapped up and straight out, his hands open and a medium sized neck width apart. I grabbed the back of his belt as he boomed again, “NO! ZERO938ZERO8.†Who could blame him. He had been the perfect citizen for the last five days, but he was desperate to hang with his friends before midnight curfewed him back to Central St. It was only seven, but the walls, they were a closin’ in.
We’d waited to be picked up for twenty-five minutes at the airport while watching competing lot vans zoom by us as if we were spectators at the Daytona Five Hundred. And now we were sitting for an inexplicable amount of time at the entrance to the Park and Fly lot while the driver waited for some phantom to allow us in. We were all tired, cold and impatient, but none of us more than Matt who sat shoulder to shoulder with a sneezing, nose blowing, headset wearing, singing, all but jumping up to dance, man, who absolutely could not have been driving himself home.
At the Detroit airport grill.
View larger image
Late breaking news: Diane answered every question as a left-brained person.
(http://brain.web-us.com/brain/braindominance.htm)
“He filled a gigabyte card and drained but one battery.”
Sounds like you guys drained more than one body battery apiece. Hope you are now all re-charged.
And BTW, what kind of miraculous camera used only one battery per GB worth of pictures? I usually drain a couple of sets per 1/2 GB with my hoggish camera.
Comment by rakkity — February 23, 2005 @ 3:53 pm
Actually, more than a gig. I can’t believe it either, because maybe a quarter of those were with flash which really consumes my batteries. It’s a Nikon D70.
Comment by michael — February 23, 2005 @ 6:22 pm
You should’ve taken a before and after — the serene Matt pictured in this post contrasting with the irate Mad Matt The Mutineer.
Our own last Park-n-Fly (or whatever cuteism) was pretty flawless, despite sleet and snow and general yuck. Which trip, I think like yours, was midweek to midweek, also generally less congested. Your writing doesn’t indicate that your own mellow was overly abraded, though. Bravo.
Yeah, I thought I’d use my given name for once….
Comment by Adam — February 25, 2005 @ 7:47 am
Adam, your experience was flawless — as are all of mine — because we don’t confuse Logan Park ‘n Go with Park and Fly .
A little further out of the way, but price is right ($15/day with the $1/day coupon on their website , their vans constantly circle, and the driver’s are friendly, speak English, and are never confused.
Comment by smiling — February 26, 2005 @ 9:30 am