I’m writing this over breakfast in the quiet of the morning of Wedding Eve. Lots to do today, starting with a nail appointment and picking up speed from there as we head toward the rehearsal dinner at the end of the day. (How fun is it that my list of responsibilities starts with having a manicure?)
My trip started with a 90-minute delay at the airport. As I was sitting around before anything happened with the plane, I saw these pants:
I haven’t seen pants like that since the 80s when I was pegging my jeans and wearing three pairs of color-coordinated socks over the legs. I took a surreptitious picture to send to a friend, and then the angel on my shoulder cleared her throat in my ear and I decided I was better than that. (Spoiler alert: I’m actually not.)
Then they announced that we would be delayed. Fabulous 80s Pants shed his harmless passenger skin and turned into the ranting, aggressive jerk we all hope is on the other flight. He stood behind me in line and growled curses into my ear. He elbowed me out of the way at the front when an agent was free, because his connecting flight was 15 minutes sooner than he’d overheard me say mine was. He answered his cell phone “DOMINO’S PIZZA” as loudly as if he were actually working the register there as pizza pans clanged in the back. And stayed on it while he tried to talk to the gate agent, with his mouth full of the free chips they’d trundled out to soothe the masses. He sprayed the counter a little with crumbs when he got really wound up. As we boarded later, he sat in first class with his eyes shut and his face turned away as if he couldn’t bear to watch the steerage passengers trundle on.
I am willing to believe that he was having a terrible day and there were extenuating circumstances. He may actually be a very good guy, and I saw him at his worst moment. But that day? He totally deserved those pants. (Seriously, though, I know I’m not exactly a fashion guru and I live not-in-town in a town with one four-way stop. So I’m willing to be taught. Are those really in again? Really and truly?)
I was delighted to make my connecting flight with a margin of about three minutes, and when I landed in Providence, I headed for ground transportation. A guy in a cart offered me a ride, and I said, “Nah, I’m fine. Thanks!”
Tip for the Day: If you’re headed for the car rentals in Providence airport, and someone offers you a ride, take it. It is rather a long walk, especially weighed down by all the necessary shoes.
My spirit was soothed by my ride, though.
It’s a lot of fun, though I can’t keep the top down all the time. The bride and I are both pasty girls, and we don’t want to be bright pink for the pictures. Also I noticed a very handsome young policeman looking admiringly in my direction as I was nosing through a construction zone. I know he was checking out the car, but it made me grin anyway.
I met my friend MEA for dinner. We had giant burgers and they were fantastic.
By the time I got to the house (I’m staying with the bride’s parents in their rental), it was dark and I couldn’t see the ocean. I had the top down, though, and I could smell it as I got closer, which was almost as good.
This is the beach access by our house, which I got to see in the morning.
The shore here (we’re on the bay) is rocky from the hard winter, but gorgeous. I don’t want to swim or build sand castles, so rocky doesn’t bother me at all.
Speaking of rocks, I was in Plymouth for meetings on Monday, and my boss drove me over to Plymouth Rock. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Probably something bigger. But it was a fun little detour.
Almost time to leave, and I’m still in my pajama pants. More later …