Just Like Old Times!

Yesterday, after I got all of my chores done, I allowed myself to go out and play.

See, Saturday night Carmen called from Jacksonville, FL where she was visiting a sick friend. During the course of the conversation she mentioned that she was glad to be coming home on Sunday, but wishing she didn't have to drive home from the Pittsburgh airport all by herself. She said she knew it had to be that way, but just wished it were otherwise. Somewhere deep down, an old yearning stirred, one that hadn't been heard from in a while. Way back in the early postings of this blog you'll find the fruits of it.

Sunday morning I made coffee and went after the last stages of the tub/shower caulking project with gusto, seeing light at the end of that tunnel. I caulked, cleaned up, and completely reassembled the bathroom. Then I went online to Greyhound.com and checked schedules from Meadville to Pittsburgh on a Sunday. Carmen's plane was scheduled to land at 6:28. The bus to Pittsburgh was scheduled to arrive at 5:20. I then looked up Pittsburgh's public transportation and found a bus leaving at 5:40 from downtown Pittsburgh, arriving at the airport at 6:25. That's cutting it pretty close. If the Greyhound is late and the plane is early, I could be stuck in Pittsburgh until the next bus back to Meadville. I printed the #28X Airport Flyer route map and schedule, and continued my chores.

I put away all of the tools and other materiel from the bathroom project, and dealt with the dishes and recycling that had been piling up since Thursday, when the bathroom project began. I scooped litter boxes and put out the garbage for Monday's pick up, including the detritus from the bathroom project. Then I looked at the clock. It was after 1:00. I could procrastinate on laundry. If I was going to catch the 2:55 Greyhound, it was time to begin launch sequence.

Gingerly I took a bath, being careful not to splash water on the new caulk. As I dressed, I loaded things into my backpack - my Free Cell game, my MP3 player and headphones, my Rand McNally road atlas, my hearing aids (it was windy and rainy for my walk downtown) and my various schedules and route maps.

It was hard to get out the door with the kitties dancing around me, lobbying for an early feeding time. I made it outside, and came right back in for a warmer coat. My raincoat would have sufficed for now, but who knew what my life in Pittsburgh might be like? Kitties notwithstanding, I managed to get out the door again.

The walk downtown was uneventful. I stopped by the bank's ATM for enough cash to see me through whatever, bought snacks for the road at Rite Aid and arrived at the Greyhound stop - a sign in front of the Downtown Mall - at 2:45. No bus yet. I went into the mall to wait.

At precisely 2:55 the Greyhound pulled up. After fifteen minutes online and fifteen more on the phone, all I had learned about tickets was that I couldn't get one on a Sunday. I hoped there was a way to surmount this problem, or this would be the end of the journey. The driver got out. I asked about a ticket to Pittsburgh. "You give me your ID. When we get to Pittsburgh, you pay the fare and get your ID back." Fair enough. I handed over my driver's license and boarded the bus.

Two and a third hours passed quickly between the Free Cell game and the five or six times I dozed off. There were only two stops on the way, and these two were not what I would have expected. We stopped in New Castle, pretty far off the straight and narrow, and (of all places) Zelienople. Nobody got on or off in either metropolis. And it seemed like only minutes later we were wending our way through the streets and bridges of Pittsburgh. We were right on time.

The only thing I didn't know was where the bus station was in relation to the 28X route. So when I paid my thirty dollar fare at the Pittsburgh station, I asked the ticket agent where I could catch the bus to the airport. She told me to turn right when I got out the door and go to Liberty Avenue a couple blocks down. I turned right and walked a couple of blocks. No Liberty. I consulted my route map. It showed a stop at Liberty and 7th. I was at Penn and 14th. I turned right again and smacked headlong into Liberty. Back I hurried, watching the time and the street signs - tenth, ninth, eighth, seventh. Which side of Liberty? Which direction is the airport? There's a bus - 28X to the airport! If I had been on the other side of the street I could have caught it. If I were allowed to run on my new knee I might have been able to catch it. I consulted my schedule. The next one would be at 6:10, arriving at 6:55 - cutting it VERY close. I called Carmen's cell phone and left a message asking her not to leave the airport.

The next 28X was right on time. It's called the Airport Flyer, and man oh man does it fly! It was seven minutes early. It let us out at baggage claim. I ran in, frantically searching for a monitor that would tell me if the Delta flight from Atlanta was on time or what. I found one. The plane was "AT GATE." The baggage would be at Baggage Carousel L. There it was. I mosied around to the far side back corner, and there she was! No Greyhound back to Meadville in the morning. Yay!

We grabbed her suitcase, took the parking shuttle to the car and headed out for some pretty good Mexican food at Don Pablo's on the way home in the good old Pennsylvania pouring rain.