It was a long day of travel which started with a 3:30am wakeup call from Orbitz to let me know that my first of two flights was on time. I jumped back into bed for 15 minutes to let the alarm really sound at 3:45 since I have been up at 5:30 on my own--no assistance from any sort of alarm clock--while my unexpectedly cool roomie snoozed on and on since she stays up later to shower and what not before bed.
I pushed outside into the hallway the dirty dishes from the celebratory "I'm going home soon brownie ice-cream sundae" from the night before and grabbed the local paper which I heard the hotel staff plunk down while I was popping open my eyelids to psyche myself for getting the heck out of here and fast.
When I arrived downstairs and as my luggage ba-boomed and zoomed over the uneven stone floor I noticed some unfamiliar but familiar faces still awake from the night before; they were the die-hard partiers. That was fine with me. I mean it was a work dinner gone long. I was not regretful that I didn't top off the 3 margaritas, tequila shot, and wine with more. I'm surprised I was only thirsty for hydration and not hanging over a toilet hoping I could delay my flight time.
I rode in a cab with one of the founders of the company. When I first met him the other night at a cocktail reception he was the typical British dry humor type. And when I had more free-flowing wine I became more comfortable with myself and came out with the expected question we all asked of each other when we weren't wearing our lanyard's and name tags: what is it that you do? To which I was embarrassed to learn that he was one of the founders of the company. And when he said not to be embarrassed, that he doesn't go around telling people that, that he prefers to keep that info somewhat reserved, I figured how opposite of my boss is he?
We arrive at the airport and part our separate ways, wishing each other good and safe travels. From my fabulous planning I had close-to-the-entrance-and-exit-seats for both the first and second flights with no one immediately sitting on either side. The extra elbow room was appreciated and I held on for dear life as the cramps were at an all-time high.
I wanted to give my seat up to the quiet man two seats over from me. I wanted to ask if he was new to Boston or visiting for a short time. He craned his neck several times to see out the window which I blocked with my crazy bumpy ponytail and bunched up coat resting on my lap. I tried to lean back to let him see and felt awkward that he was constantly turned my way trying to catch a glimpse of the clouds, the water, the land. The snow.
Fastforward and I'm feeling really hot from being all twisted up in my plane clothes under a blanket on the couch when Bub arrives home. I'm groggy and annoyed that I didn't unpack just a few things so that I could have looked nicer for his arrival. Instead he waited as I put spring-colored tulips in a vase, combed my hair, threw on a skirt and clean sweater with newish heels. I had been in boots all day--with not painful heels--but enough to piss off my feet. But I wanted to step it up. I was home and this was our Valentine's Day.
We hit a favorite restaurant and Bub was extremely talkative. I watched as others packed into the cramped restaurant and rushed to shut the door to keep out the bitter reminder that we're still in winter even though spring is supposed to come soon.
We drank wine, ate appetizers which brought us back to Amalfi Coast memories, and we talked about what we would do this weekend. How we would pick up our house-hunting task and maybe figure things out as we go.
Because this weekend, people. This weekend is here. And it's a long one.