So, yesterday’s sojurn through Dulles ended up being way more painful than I’d hoped.
As in the flight that was supposed to leave between 9 and 10 in the PM left between 1 and 2 in the AM, and got into Jacksonville about 3. As luck would have it, the rental car counters were all as empty as a keg at about 12:30 AM in a frat house. And, the number of taxis at the airport was exactly zero.
So, I did what any red-blooded American man would do in this situation – I laid my butt down and tried to take a nap. Wasn’t terribly hard between 4A and 5A, but about then, folks started showing up for work and being loud. AND, one of the alarms that go off prior to the baggage claim moving started wailing, and went on for about 45 minutes. *grumble*
About 5:55, I finally got a car, and boogied on down to Naval Station Mayport for a meeting, arriving a little after 7. When I got to the Q, the guy at the counter asked me if I really wanted the room, that maybe I could save the 24 bucks. Luckily, he remembered I had been guaranteed for arrival the night before before I could say anything, and gave me the room key. I rewarded him with the classic Jank Family cemetery joke*, passed from me to my son, from my father, my father’s father, and so on. The guy behind the counter said he was going to go out and tell it to his kid.
So – it’s 7:15, and I was under the impression that I was meeting the other folks I need to work with at about 8. What do I do?
That’s right, RBF – I threw on the sneakers and went for a quick 20 minute run along Mayport’s absolutely great run of taxpayer sponsored beach. 17 minutes, 2 miles, and a load off of my shoulders.
Quick shower later, and I managed to stay awake through the meetings, etc. The folks I was meeting threw a fish fry for lunch, so about 2 I pried myself away with a full belly, used legs, and a smile. Back at JAX, I finally let my guard down for a while and closed my eyes until my flight showed up.
* Classic Jank Family Cemetery joke: As the bike/car/path passes a cemetery, the initiator asks “Hey, what’s that over there?” The mark answers “A cemetery.”
The initiator replys “I thought there’d be a line; cemeteries are popular places.”
“Really?” asks the mark, setting up the punchline guaranteed to be heard at least once on any road trip in our car in New England, where it’s seemingly impossible to throw a rotting apple without hitting a 300 year old tombstone.
“Yeah, people are dying to get in!”