[Note: I’ve been toying with the idea of updating more, instead of just on Wednesdays. I’ll give it a try, see how that goes.]
Adam went to Philly for a wedding yesterday morning. He’s to fly back this morning. There was concern about him drinking and having fun all night and then making his early morning flight, so as I was lying in bed (with the two munchkins), I gave him a call at 6:25 a.m. to see how he was doing. [And in all fairness, this is the gist of the conversation, not the exact conversation, as we all have colds over here and I was half asleep.]
Me: So, you going to make your flight okay?
Adam: I’m answering the phone, aren’t I?
Me: What do you mean?
Adam: I mean, I’m obviously not on my plane.
Me: Did you miss it?!?
Adam: No, it was delayed. But that’s clear if you could reach me.
Me: What do you mean?
Adam: Well, if I had left on time, I’d be on the plane.
Me: Your flight leaves at 6:45.
Adam: No. It was a 5:45 flight.
Me: No, pretty sure it’s at 6:45.
Adam shuffles around looking for his ticket. Silence a moment.
Adam: Oh. Your right. 6:45. Huh. Guess I got up an hour early.
Me: So you were at the airport in time for a 5:45 flight?
Adam: Yeah. But, still, it is delayed!
And indeed it is. I just checked. His 6:45 flight left at 6:55. Darn that cruel Delta!
