Letters to Holly

Monday, July 23

Flying by Plane and by Broom

Your Sis drove me to the Greenville Airport to take advantage of a $50 ticket straight to Tampa, where my friend Rebecca was getting hitchified. I had a flight scheduled the next day also from Tampa, but it wasn't until I arrived at the Greenville airport that I realized Tampa has two airports. Esther, who you met at our wedding (she was the photo wrangler), offered to pick me up when I arrived, and we had to make sure we were talking about the same airport. The one commonly referred as the international airport isn't officially called the international airport. The other one is. And they're about 20 miles apart.

The Warrendorfs and I ate at a Carolina-style BBQ joint they found, and the fare was right close to what we're used to. Your Sis called me as I ate a BBQ sandwich to say she had locked herself out of the house with her common habit of not carrying keys. It bit her in the butt the one time I'm out of state. She hired a locksmith, but he couldn't pick our locks and had to break the garage lock to get inside. He's supposed to install a new lock this week. Esther and I went to the hotel and chatted with Rebecca while she got ready for the ceremony.

The hotel provided all the wedding and reception material, including the bouquet. We watched her get her hair done, do her make-up, complete her dress ensemble, and take casual pics with the official photographer.

Becca gets her hair done.

The camera's batteries and the iPod batteries were apparently killed by the airport x-ray machines. I got maybe ten pictures with four brand-new batteries. I offered my hotel room for Esther's babysitters and son during the wedding. About five hours later, the party wound down, and the Warrendorfs left for their condo across the bay. I talked to Your Sis, who used the weekend to work on school stuff and catch a play with a college pal, and hit the bed after midnight.

It storms in Tampa often and loudly.

I got up at 5:30 to catch a taxi and hit the appropriate airport. I gave myself plenty of time and found myself without new reading material. I read Watership Down on the flight down; Your Sis, I'm convinced, wants me to bawl after reading every book she hands me. I picked up the new Harry Potter book after all. I knew the airport stores would have them, and they all had many, many copies. And many, many passengers were carrying them around.

The flight out of Tampa was overbooked, and I only got aboard when some folks traded seats for later flights. The Atlanta to Greenville flight was complicated by numerous get changes (four within 15 minutes) and a tarmac delay of about half an hour. One of the gate attendants asked me if Potter book was for her. She was a cute, black woman about 25 years old, and she single-handedly destroyed the stereotype of adult Potter readers. Also, Delta misplaced my luggage. Your Sis met me at the airport, and we had a late lunch with My Parents. We also gave them our first handout of garden potatoes. Delta called to say my luggage could be driven to our house after flying into Asheville, but I arranged to pick up the suitcase on the way home from work.

We snacked for dinner and watched the third X-Men film DVD. By the time I had gone to bed, I had read half the Harry Potter book (so far: very dark, very charming). This morning, I am a zombie, but I look forward to wings and fries tonight.

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