The Giant Sucking Sound
Excitedly headed off to Dulles Airport to round up Frau cakeinoz and Herr Doktor Cookieman. Brought itsabouttimedc along for backup, because I was fairly certain they would have too much luggage for the Wonder Sentra. While I was waiting to leave, the leftovers from Thanksgiving were taunting me from the fridge. I was famished, but I thought I would wait in case the Frau wanted to grab a late lunch. Yeah, that didn't happen. I opened the container, under the delusion that I would limit myself to a couple of bites of Italian sausage stuffing. The next thing I knew I was shoveling food into my piehole like Marlon Brando at a Maggiano's. About halfway through I came up for air and had the presence of mind to transfer the meal to a plate. That way, I cold butter the mashed potatoes and warm them up. Popped the plate into the microwave for 20 seconds, removed it after 18, and continued eating right at the counter. Is that what Ross Perot meant?
The food coma made me a bit late. Their flight landed at 2:20 and I was just waddling out the door at 2:00. I was a bit worried that they would beat me to the baggage claim. My fears were quickly put to rest when arrived at the gate to find that the flight in front of theirs in the customs line was an Air France flight. I had plenty of time. I'm sure, per TSA Policy #823-21 ("Screw the French") every passenger on that flight underwent a cavity search. Of course, their flight was a KLM flight, and given TSA Policy #823-22 ("Watch out for them damn librul Amsterdamians; Check their wooden shoes for oregano."), I was not holding my turkey breath for a swift trip through customs. At 3:00 they popped through the doors and made their long awaited return to American soil.
We dialed up cheese4me, who lives near the airport, to see if we could drop in on her and jetboo. To reward my rudeness, cheese4me served her fabulous apple/pecan crisp., and we chatted about what we would do with the happy couple while we had them in our clutches. Talk of a christmas tree trimming party was bandied about.
I had neglected to account for both Herr Cookieman's and itsabouttimedc's feline allergies, and when they each turned into a giant hive, we determined it was time to go. Dropped them off, via the Springfield Interchange, because I am a dork and I wanted to see the progress of the I-395 South to Rt. 644 flyover.
Headed straight up I-395 to join copperred for happy hour at Windows. By this point I was hungry again. We had a couple of drinks there. Got a phone call from Joe, and had a great conversation. He is settling in nicely in his gorgeous Victorian in Vermont. He and his namesake partner are heading to Montreal for the day. I *heart* Montreal. If you have the chance, you have to go. It's a beautiful city. By the time I got off the phone with Joe, I was cold and hungry. I grabbed copperred and we went to dinner. As a departure from our usual Annie's trip, he suggested the Duplex diner. Food was OK. Service sucked. Sorry, Chord (yes...that was his name...what were his parents thinking?), I don't care how pretty you are, but if I have to place my order with another server and send a smoke signal just to get the check, don't hold your breath for a good tip.
Oh...and who was sitting at the table right behind me? Andrew Sullivan.
The food coma made me a bit late. Their flight landed at 2:20 and I was just waddling out the door at 2:00. I was a bit worried that they would beat me to the baggage claim. My fears were quickly put to rest when arrived at the gate to find that the flight in front of theirs in the customs line was an Air France flight. I had plenty of time. I'm sure, per TSA Policy #823-21 ("Screw the French") every passenger on that flight underwent a cavity search. Of course, their flight was a KLM flight, and given TSA Policy #823-22 ("Watch out for them damn librul Amsterdamians; Check their wooden shoes for oregano."), I was not holding my turkey breath for a swift trip through customs. At 3:00 they popped through the doors and made their long awaited return to American soil.
We dialed up cheese4me, who lives near the airport, to see if we could drop in on her and jetboo. To reward my rudeness, cheese4me served her fabulous apple/pecan crisp., and we chatted about what we would do with the happy couple while we had them in our clutches. Talk of a christmas tree trimming party was bandied about.
I had neglected to account for both Herr Cookieman's and itsabouttimedc's feline allergies, and when they each turned into a giant hive, we determined it was time to go. Dropped them off, via the Springfield Interchange, because I am a dork and I wanted to see the progress of the I-395 South to Rt. 644 flyover.
Headed straight up I-395 to join copperred for happy hour at Windows. By this point I was hungry again. We had a couple of drinks there. Got a phone call from Joe, and had a great conversation. He is settling in nicely in his gorgeous Victorian in Vermont. He and his namesake partner are heading to Montreal for the day. I *heart* Montreal. If you have the chance, you have to go. It's a beautiful city. By the time I got off the phone with Joe, I was cold and hungry. I grabbed copperred and we went to dinner. As a departure from our usual Annie's trip, he suggested the Duplex diner. Food was OK. Service sucked. Sorry, Chord (yes...that was his name...what were his parents thinking?), I don't care how pretty you are, but if I have to place my order with another server and send a smoke signal just to get the check, don't hold your breath for a good tip.
Oh...and who was sitting at the table right behind me? Andrew Sullivan.