To the airport

Awaiting the phone call from the lad to tell me what flight he’s arriving on tonight, the phone rang and I answered it.

Him: Hello, Mrs. Alletto?
Me: Noo…
Him: Oh, I’m sorry ma’am. I must have the wrong number, but I’m sure you can still help me. I work directly with the Fraternal Order of Police-
Me: Click.

I wonder how many Mrs. Allettos he’s called today.

In any event…

I’m still awaiting the phone call with the airline and flight number so that I may swoop into Logan and pick the lad up tonight. Looking forward to homicidal taxi drivers and bus drivers all converging from different directions, switching lanes at 70 miles an hour. But I’m getting pretty good at surviving it.

The lad did mention—when he briefly called earlier to tell me he’d call later—that Lafayette College is his new favorite place on earth.

Oh nuts ... he just called to say they missed their flight. He will be very, very late. Well, maybe there won’t be as many taxi drivers late, late tonight.