Yesterday, I went to the airport but did not get on a plane or come home with anyone who’d gotten off a plane. Wacky, I know. But that was the plan all along–a little while back Jamie mentioned she had a long layover here and suggested getting together, and that sounded like an excellent idea to me. Adding to the excellence, I’d also finally get to meet Rooey, whom I’ve been trying very hard not to stalk since she moved back to Michigan earlier this year, and her husband. (It being kayaking season, Mr. Karen was not able to commit to coming and as it turned out he ended up being on the Ohio Turnpike returning from parts east at the time I was getting my meet on.)
We decided to gather at Dema, the restaurant in the Westin–it was that or the coffee counter in baggage claim, since most of the services in that terminal are in the secure area. It never occurred to me that it might not be open–the hours on the website amply covered the times we wanted to hang out–but the bell captain I talked to when I arrived said there was a wedding down there and he’d call and see if I could get in. Fortunately, I could. The wedding was over, the guests had dispersed, the bride and groom were posing for pictures, and the officiant was sitting in the lounge watching the Pistons game, clerical collar still in place.
Just after the game ended, Jamie called to say she was in the terminal and then Rooey and Dave arrived and before too long we were all sitting around a table and chatting and laughing. Rooey was every bit as pretty as her pictures, and Jamie was cute as can be. Our boy waiter had to be patient since we were too busy talking to read the menu and decide what to order. The “modern cuisine with an Asian flair” turned out to be mostly not-at-all-Asian–I had a BLT pizza, though I suppose that was sort of Asian, in that I did eat some unusual pizza in Tokyo (corn, cuttlefish, etc.) so there’s a connection. Too soon it was time for Jamie to head back through security for her flight.
It wasn’t until I got home that I realized 1) I’d said a couple really stupid things and 2) I hadn’t grabbed my box of leftover pizza off the table. Perhaps that was my subconscious at work, remembering how sick I got after the last time I ate leftover pizza and not wanting to take any chances. It wasn’t until I saw the pictures today that I realized how very pink and shiny I was by the time the evening ended. Gotta touch up that powder more often, I guess.
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