Well folks, this marks the end of the trip.
Come to think of it, a ‘total non-stop fun fest’ pretty much sums up the last three weeks.
You’ve gotten most of the gory details. The good photos. The fun times.
I hope you enjoyed it. (If not, keep it to yourself.)
Before I go, I have one last story to tell… Because, really, the blog wouldn’t be complete without the story of getting to my plane home, would it?
It’s my final day in San Fran. I’m flying out at 2:30pm. And I have, of course, something planned before I take off.
A brunch with my old roommate and friend, Pete Conway and his fiance, Wendy.
Backstory…
Pete and I lived together at Dartmouth. He was quite probably the best roommate that I’ve ever had.
Not because he was particularly neat. Or because he cleaned up after himself, or anything important like that.
He was an awesome roommate because we always had so damn much fun together. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much or as hard as I did that year that I lived with Pete.
Prior to this trip, I hadn’t seen Pete since Dartmouth. But I did have dinner with him and met his new fiance, Wendy, the night before leaving for the wedding. We had a blast. And we’d organized to have brunch on this, my departure date. The Fourth of July.
[And, incidentally, for those of you not in the know, I would be returning to SF in October to see Pete & Wendy get married. Another amazing wedding. Of two amazing people. With more silly and ridiculous stories. More stories for another time.
Huh… I just realized something. Even if I do happen to be thoroughly unlucky in the love department… I’m still pretty blessed that all of the people that I love seem to be marrying amazing people — having amazing weddings and letting me live vicariously through them… It could be a lot worse…]
Anyway, Back to the Fourth of July.
And a veritable snafu of lunch plans.
Between crossed signals, the wrong restaurant, the Fourth of July parade and the COMPLETE INABILITY TO FIND PARKING ANYWHERE… Pete & Wendy, and Ashley (Justin’s sister) and I finally connect for lunch.
Only now, it’s so late that I’ve got only about 20 minutes to eat or… you guessed it… I’m gonna miss my plane.
But, dear friends, something is different on this day. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But, for some strange reason, today is different. I eat my food, say my goodbyes. And 20 minutes later, I depart for the airport not having to rush like a madman.
Hmm. I wonder what it was?
Probably Pete and Wendy shoving me out of the restaurant saying, “You’re going to miss you plane if you don’t get your ass out the door NOW!!!”
Yeah. That was probably it.
Peace. Out.
M