Boston, getting there

View of the Atlantic from the coast of Massachusetts

Tuesday, May 15th, 2007

I’m in Chicago’s O’Hare, waiting for my connecting flight to Boston, when I receive a very strange phone call from Micah.

“Hi, can you tell me who’s phone this is?” said the voice on the other line.

Uhhhh, sure I can. Ass! And I then proceeded to make fun of him for his lame attempt at trickery.

The phone ended up being with airport security in Wichita.

After stalling out his car on the way to the airport very early in the morning, Micah arrived 15 minutes early to the security checkpoint. He had no time to check luggage, so he dumped toiletries into the trash en masse. No one would allow him cuts, but he somehow made it through with 10 minutes to spare. It’s then that he fell, spilling the contents of his suitcase everywhere.

The AirTran gate is empty; he frantically pounds on the door. A lady opens, telling him, “I guess it’s your god damn lucky day.”

And so he makes his flight. But forgets his cell phone.

I’m nervous already; I planned a trip with him and now he has no cell phone with him. Questions enter my mind, like “does he even know my number?” and “did he even make his flight?” After landing in Boston, I have him paged and immediately receive a call from a payphone. Everything is good.

We subway it to the hotel and unpack. It’s a Marriott, but the room is smaller than my bedroom.

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