Friday Fragments #45 -- California Cabs and Texas Goths
How is it Friday? How is it May? I stand in shock at how quickly the word-a-day pages are disappearing from the stack. Or I would if I had a page-a-day calendar but you get me. The world is spinning so fast and traveling around the old sun at epic speed. At least, it feels that way. 2016 has been great so far but its lightning pace has me gasping for air.
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In this breakneck week, I have traveled back from California via San Antonio, stayed in a haunted hotel, and attended a goth concert. And now, I am living the exciting post travel lifestyle of laundry and unpacking. How does it take me three days to unpack? Skills, baby. Skills.My time at Mom 2.0 was inspiring both because of the incredible speakers and the amazing location. I will spare you more California pics but if I could find a little square of land in Laguna that didn't cost a million dollars, I would probably move there today. It is ridiculously beautiful.Having had an amazing stay, I had a less than ideal exit. To ensure that I would arrive in time for the evening's concert (especially with the two hour time change), I booked an 8:05 flight. I wanted to arrive at the airport at least one and a half hours before so I caught a cab at 6:05. As I slid into the leather seat, I exhaled, feeling happy that I would have a relaxed trip in with plenty of time.Ah... you knew that wouldn't last.Five minutes into the drive, I am happily chatting away with the driver. He approaches an intersection that has orange cones blocking the entrance to I-5. He is clearly frustrated by the detour. Just as he is about to pass the intersection and reroute, he sees a truck bypass the cones. The driver then decides to follow the truck onto the ramp. Yes, yes he did."It will be good, I promise. I'll just act dumb."Before I can even respond to that we are on the closed lanes of the freeway. There are cars moving on I-5 but this entry was blocked due to construction. We screech to a halt only to hear sirens behind us before he can maneuver around the construction and join the free flowing traffic just two lanes away."Oh, no."The police officer approaches the car. "Can't you see the cones?""It was an honest mistake, officer. I saw the truck go through so I thought it was okay." As the driver is saying this over and over, I am laughing inside because I knew he did it on purpose and had said he would play dumb."Let me understand this. You see a construction truck enter a construction site and you think that means you can follow him?" I hope you can hear the sarcasm in your head because it was strong."I'm sorry, officer. It's an honest mistake. I do have a passenger."At this point, the police officer looks back at me. I say nothing. I mean, what could I say? He nods at me."Well, it's going to be a bit. Sorry." He was not at all sorry, by the way. Though I can't say I blame him.The driver begins an avalanche of apologies. I notice that I have held my breath this whole time. I am looking at the time on my phone every minute or so. I can hear the officer talking with the construction workers calling the driver and idiot, etc. My breaths are getting shorter and my anxiety is getting higher. At this point, we realize that the meter is still going. Yes, the last five minutes have ticked away. He clicked it so it paused. I was being charged for him getting a ticket!After a metaphorical eternity, the officer returns. He lectures the driver (rightly) about being more careful and observing the signs. The driver's broken record of "honest mistake" picks right up. The officer then says "wait for an opening and merge carefully" as he exits. I realize what he means. We are at a complete stop wedged between multiple trucks. The freeway is at full speed. How are we ever going to get out of here?The driver does remember to start the meter, of course. He moves the cab to the very edge of the construction. We lurch forward as he floors the gas trying to take the minivan style taxi from 0 to 65 in less than 100 feet. At that moment, I was glad I had not yet eaten breakfast."Don't worry, I'll make up the time."No, no, no. Please do not get another ticket. I am loading the map on my phone to see how far away we are. Still thirty minutes away. Aack!Long story long, I did make it to the airport with just over an hour. And what did I get for all this anxiety? An $80 fare. Not the way to end my #Mom2Summit experience.
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But since this is frags plural, I won't leave you with my terrible cab ride. Hubby picked me up at the airport in San Antonio. He was actually waiting for me in baggage, not just curb pickup. Call me silly but I find this very romantic. Remember the days when loved ones could drop you off and pick you up at the gate? Billy Crystal had a great speech in "When Harry Met Sally" about gauging your relationship based on whether or not your love will pick you up at the airport. And it used to be a staple of rom-coms when one star-crossed lover runs frantically through the airport to stop a loved one from leaving. Alas, another casualty of our post 9/11 world. But digress. The point is my hubby loves me and met me at the airport.We then had a wonderful Grown-Up day walking the Riverwalk, eating Tex-Mex, and seeing musical artist Peter Murphy.
After a year on the road, living in very close quarters, it was lovely to be alone for 24 hours!
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Now back to the unpacking. I hope you have had a wonderful week and to the mothers out there, Happy Mother's Day!
If you fragged it up this week, please share. I hope you'll join me next week. Cheers!