The Good Stuff

If you read the last post, you know the NYC trip didn't go quite as planned. There were some really good times though...

Spamalot: How Much FUN! It pokes fun at everyone and everything ~ as Monty Python has always been wont to do. If you know The Search for the Holy Grail completely and can quote it, live it, breathe it, you may not like it. If you are simply an average Monty Python/absurdist fan, it's delightful. If it is appropriate for particularly innocent 13 year olds or not is another question.

Texas Hold 'Em: Having traveled on birthday trips with my heart for the last six years, I am well aware of the benefits of throwing a deck of cards in my bag. Thank the Goddess I did this time. With his fever hovering around 100 even on the meds, I was unwilling to take my heart out into NYC winter until after we had gotten to the see the show. If he crashed after that, it was fine. But I wanted him healthy enough to make it to the theatre. Which meant a lot of time in the room. And so he taught me to play Texas Hold 'Em. Fun stuff.

Nemeria: Now, being with Nemeria is one of the best things I can do under any circumstances. Being with Nemeria when I'm dealing with a sick 13 year old, running a fever myself, and want nothing more than to have some adult conversation without having to think about everything that is going to come out of my mouth is nothing less than a gift from heaven. She found the restaurants we wanted, got us there, helped carry conversation...*whew* She the contemporary I have known longest, my oldest friend. We knew each other before we were my heart's age. Nights like this, it shows.

Serendipity 3: I introduced them to frozen hot chocolate, frozen peanut butter chocolate, and frozen mochaccino (sp?) How can that not be in the Good Stuff list?

Victor: Victor was the doorman. While I know he couldn't possibly have been there round the clock, it seemed to me whenever I went down for a smoke, there he was. He kept me company, asked after my heart, gave me directions to the drug store, gave me someone I could cuss in front of, and was generally an all-around nice guy. When it came time to get a ride to Penn Station in a blizzard, he had 7 groups on his list. I went to him and said "Put me on your list. We're in the lobby. Just let me know whenever you get down to us." His response? "You're first." And so we were.

Business Class: I booked us business class tickets on the train because I want to teach my heart to 1. enjoy the finer things in life and 2. that he is worth the finer things in life, that you don't have to be exceedingly rich or powerful or someone "special" in order to take care of yourself. I could not have picked a better trip. The trains were packed. The airports had rerouted people to Penn Station. People were sitting up in club cars and dining cars. Groups, even groups of two people, were having to split up between totally different cars on the same train. And then there was business class. There were seven of us in the enitire car. My heart and I sat at a table. We played cards. He stretched out for a nap. We had drinks and a snack. Lovely.

Monday: He was scheduled to leave Monday afternoon. Monday morning, I called Bradley International Airport to check on delays and the such. The recording said flights were running 1.5-2 hours delayed and were expected to all day. Which meant he would have missed his connection. So, I call Delta. They have flights in and out of Bradley running on time. Cool. Would she mind checking flight numbers for me? But of course, Ms. Pobble...oh. Oh my. Turns out, he wouldn't have been allowed on the flight anyway because it was the last connecting flight to where he lives and they don't allow that with unaccompanied minors. The reservation should never have been made in the first place. So, we changed his flight to Tuesday and got to hang out on Monday. We went to the bookstore. We went to see The Chronicles of Narnia. We ate popcorn and candy. We ordered pizza and talked. We agreed it was the best day of the whole trip.

As you can see, it wasn't a horrible trip. Tiring. Very tiring. And, as a nonparent who is not used to children getting sick on my watch, a little scary. I mean, I'm not used to caring for a kid with 102 degree fever. And it was good time. I hope he thought so too.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.