April 27, 2006
Dear Everyone:
My furry, little, four-legged houseguests are no
longer here. “Jeannie” came
home last Saturday.
Back in the good old days, prior to September 11, 2001, you parked in “short-term” parking and met your party at the gate. There would be the usual greeting and hugging, typically blocking other travelers trying to get around you. Then you proceeded the Baggage Claim where you spent at least half an hour waiting for the luggage to show up. After which you trudged out to the parking lot and made your way slowly to the exit where you paid a great deal of money to get out.
September 11th changed all that. No meeting people at the gate anymore. So they set aside a small area near Baggage Claim where people could wait for their visitors and/or returning heroes. But it got too crowded. Likewise Baggage Claim, the one place you could meet people.
So
What “Jeannie” and I didn’t know until last
February, when she was returning from visiting Mother, was that
“Take
I actually followed the directions right up to the
last sentence. There was no
sign reading “Park & Call” here.
I did see a “Park & Call” sign pointing back the way I’d come,
but by that time I was on my way back to the freeway.
I managed to get turned around and followed the directions again.
But this time I made the only right turn possible and there, at
the end of what I can only hope is temporary paving, was a small,
hand-painted sign: “Park and
Call”. Beyond that was an
enormous building and parking lot that I assume is the “
This is classic, like the Help you find in many
software products.
Directions written by and for people who already know what they’re
doing. How was I supposed to
know what the
Anyway, I was pulling into a parking space when my cell phone started playing the ring tone that says you got a voicemail. Sure enough, I had a voicemail from “Jeannie”. It turns out, you can park, but you can’t call. Her call went straight to voicemail because the signal couldn’t reach my phone. When I tried to call her back, it went straight to voicemail. I didn’t bother leaving a message because “Jeannie” doesn’t know how to do voicemail. (Note to self: This weekend, teach “Jeannie” how to use voicemail. May need carefully written directions at first.)
But I knew she was outside the terminal, so I just
drove up there.
Unfortunately, there were hundreds of other people standing in front of
the terminal, wondering where their rides were, too.
Eventually, she found me and we left
After a brief stop at the grocery store, so “Jeannie” could pick something up for dinner, we went to my place. “Jeannie’s” kitties were very happy to see her. They weren’t so happy to get into their respective carriers; but half an hour later, they were all home at last. While “Jeannie” was away, her friend painted the dining room walls. So everything was in the center of the room.
But everyone was so happy to be home they didn’t care.
Love, as always,
Pete
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