I awoke before the low moan of dawn to attempt an earlier flight to Seattle. Miraculously, I got on the first of the four I was trying for, in a seat with footroom even because a mechanic just brought the seat back into service. So I was the last person seated, one of the first off, and, okay, I had to gate-check my bag, but I entered the hotel lobby before 11:30 PDT and a good thing because Ernie was stalking me.
I was walking in, sunglasses, nonbinding travel skirt, wheelie, and Dot Org "briefcase" (Lands' End, and canvas, but everyone else calls it a briefcase and it has our logo on it so I follow the crowd), and saw Ernie at the registration desk. He was about to ask the desk if I had checked in yet, but at least now he was spared tracking me down. There was a problem with the report. He said it didn't need to be fixed until tomorrow afternoon, but I said it needed to be fixed now because tomorrow I would belong not to my department but to the registration staff.
I called Denver, and Minnie was still in the office and would not only fix the error but oversee a fresh batch of photocopies and the shipping. Photocopying would be more expensive at this end than shipping at that.
I made the required visit to Pike Place Market, where I bought flowers for my evening's hosts, took them to my room and ventured toward Seattle Center. Here the line for the Needle was 30 minutes, after waiting in however long the ticket line was, and I had changed from traveling clothes to city clothes and stupidly had not brought either printed or audio book with me. So I bagged that. I will dine alone, attend movies solo, travel by myself, but I will not wait in line by myself without a book. Frankly if I'm waiting in line with someone I'd still rather have a book. I have seldom had tolerable conversation in a queue.
On the bus up to Jackson Park, I listened to The Killer Angels. War novels are not my usual fare so it's a good audio choice, but I need paper backup for maps.
I arrived at PSA's right on time. I had not seen him, my first boyfriend, since 1998, and he and his were the reason I wanted an earlier flight--a Tuesday departure for Japan meant Monday was the only available evening. I met his wife and their two sons, one three and terribly excited about all his visitors especially his cousins, and the other just a month or so and much quieter. I spent more time talking to PSA's 11-year-old niece than to him, but she was great and we were immediately pals. The 3-year-old's best cousin was not this girl but a younger boy, probably because closer proximity in age but perhaps because of his splendid Elvis impersonation. PSA's brother I met one Thanksgiving a thousand years ago, and his wife and I made female chat.
We talked about family resemblances and toy sushi sets, ate cookout foot and lychee nuts, and all of a sudden it was time for me to leave. Next time I'll make sure to talk to PSA more than his niece and to have more than an abbreviated evening to get to know his wife.
PSA announced to all that I kept a blog, and besides that I otherwise affect an "Internet? What's that?" persona, I had to protest "blog." This site has existed long before weblogs, and it has seldom had much to do with the rest of the internet. Lucy and I will be the last blog refuse-niks.