[LiveJournal has this neat "Post by Phone" feature. I posted this piece there privately and transcribed it here. Hitherto. A tangent: It's sobering to transcribe yourself; you hear all the "Nicky Newark"-isms. I never knew my speech patterns were that of giant run-on sentences connected by ands.]
"So it's about ten after four on Tuesday I guess it is, and I want to tell you about my day. I woke up this morning and I checked my email from my bed, because I can do that from my cell phone. I had received a reply from John who eloquently and elegantly responded to a knee-jerk email I sent him last night. After I read his email, I had resolve.
So I got up
and I took a shower
and I put on some work clothes
and I went to work
and I picked up my laptop which I had left there overnight
and I went to my boss at the bank and I said, "Karen, I have some work that needs to be done down at the ISI mothership. You'll probably see me back here Thursday afternoon."
She said, "Great!"
And then I made a phone call to a friend who works at the ISI mothership and I said "If anyone's looking for me, just tell them you saw me five minutes ago." He said no problem.
And then I went back to my apartment
and reached on top of the refrigerator
and picked up the folded sleeve which contained a voucher.
And then I drove to the airport.
And I talked to the ticket agent, and I said, "I need to be in San Francisco." So he booked me for a late flight tonight and a bogus return flight two weeks from now (knowing I would fly standby tomorrow), and told me to fly standby for the 3:50pm flight today.
I went to gate B5 and sat there quietly for two hours.
The gate was completely empty when I arrived there, and it was bursting at the seams come 3:15.
The boarded the passengers, and I waited.
They boarded the stragglers, and I waited.
They boarded the last two little asian ladies.
And then they called my name.
"Yes, that's me."
He handed me a ticket stub. Seat 13-E.
I walked down the jetway, paying close attention to the way my feet felt as they stepped closer to the plane.
The flight attendant was waiting for me, and he said "Welcome Aboard." He meant it.
I got to my seat. I started to put my backpack down, and then I stopped for a moment.
I had it all in my mind that I was gonna land, and I was gonna rent a car, and I was gonna grab a hotel room and then I was gonna drive over to John's and ring the doorbell. And he would open the door, and I don't know what would happen next. I'm hoping we would give each other a hug.
But as I sat down in seat 13-E, I started to worry that this was a bad idea. And even though it seemed so right in the morning-- that this was exactly what I had to do (I had to do it, I HAD TO)-- it dawned on me that the actual execution of this plan could possibly do more damage than good. I had some John Cusack movie ending in my mind; I wanted this John to know how important he is to me, how much I miss him, how much I believe in him. I wanted him to be able to say that someone had done such an amazing thing for him because he was simply loved so much; beyond words.
I got up
and I exited the plane.
I stood in the jetway tube and I thought about turning around and getting back on
but I didn't.
I said to the gate agent once I had reached him, "You know, I changed my mind."
and he said, "Oh, so you'll be taking the later flight then?"
And I said that I didn't think so.
So he smiled and said, "Well, no problem. Your ticket is still good for travel between Philadelphia and San Francisco, with travel originating in either city."
I said, "Great, thank you."
And I walked out here to my car, which is parked on the roof of the garage in the bright sun.
And here I am.
So that was my day.
How was yours?"