The Anecdotal Life Part. 46

With the dead and the dying and those seriously considering it in our family or extended family, it's hard to blog. I called my sister in Michigan, one hotbed of tragedy at the moment, and was complaining that I had cried in the middle of Barnes and Noble again and it was getting embarrassing. She replied, " I usually cry at the grocery store, but today I have bridge." We both laughed.
My son got me tickets to California to cheer me up. Indeed, it helped immeasurably, except for coming home. If any of you are leading a reasonable happy life and wish to hang on to it; don't fly United. United is not united; it is divided. I have never been treated so cruelly or unfairly by such a large number of people at once. Arriving an hour and a half in advance made no difference. The lines started out on the sidewalk. So if you can't get through all the lines and haven't checked in at the gate a half hour in advance; you can kiss your ticket goodbye. They stamped my next one with LATE at the top. So I had gotten up at 5 a.m. , "missed" the 10:45 flight, was refused on the 12:00 flight in a punitive fashion, finally accepted on a 4:00 p.m. flight and I got home at 3:3o a.m. Then I drove home from Dulles to Annapolis. I am not merely jet lagged. I am jet p.o.'d.
But Happy New Year anyway... To you all... And I really mean it, because somehow in the midst of horrible news coming in each day, I've had wonderful warm, funny experiences I will never forget. "And that's the way it is, moving West".
Copyright: January 5, 2007