Yesterday was such a whirl. Grams shook me awake at some hour that is foreign to me. We had to catch the Surfliner to go to the Burbank airport. We stumbled out in the dark to the taxi, and then I fell back to sleep on the drive down to the platform. Why we couldn’t fly to Burbank is beyond my comprehension, but then much is beyond my comprehension in the wee hours of the morning.
I slept most of the way, waking only when Henri and Grams called out the stations. Once we were at the airport, everything was ticktey-boo. We were flying Jet Blue. Since they don’t serve lunch, Grams got us lunches. Dear Grams managed to find us the best eats and iced mocha lattés all around (Henri got a blueberry shake).
Jet Blue is amazing. We had over 30 channels to choose from and none of this packaged news: it was a live feed. So, I watched CNN for a while, then I switched to BBC America. Henri watched ‘toons. Big Guy watched the Weather Channel and the flight info. Grams read her book and fell asleep. Then the mad farter struck.
I have to say that bodily functions don’t usually turn my head. But, farting in an enclosed space at 36,000 feet; need I say more? I have very sensitive lungs, but this gaseous cloud even woke up Grams. What to do? Well, it seemed to come from everywhere at once. Big Guy finally decided that it was the wannabe punker in front of us; so he turned on the air nozzle and turned it so it was blowing toward the punker. Didn’t help, but at least he tried. Now, you’ve got to know when you’re passing gas. You know there’s no blaming the dog up in the wild blue yonder. At least get your bum back to the loo and let loose in there. You know what I mean???
We were expecting turbulence from the remnants of hurricane Katrina, but it was smooth the whole way. The thunderstorms predicted in the NYC area never appeared, but was humid. Now, I like that but our Grams does not do humid. Poor thing, she was looking wrung out by the time we got to the airtrain at JFK.
I love good public transportation and NYC has some of the best. The airtrain whisked us to the subway. The subway whisked us to the Path train and Bob’s you uncle, we were in Hoboken.
Grams had to change. I don’t want to say that she was sweating, but let’s say she had a definite glow. Then, we walked over to Ted and Jo’s. The air was cool and breeze was blowing off the Hudson. T&J's is the local spot. Part pub, part restaurant, it’s great. A good time was had by all. Then, back to Meg and Henri’s pied a terre, and off to bed.
This morning I woke up before everyone else for possibly the first time in my life and took this photo of the Yardley soap plant here in Hoboken. Now, I’m waiting for them to get up. I’m in my happy place.
Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).