I’m writing this at Gate A14 at Beantown Airport, where I am waiting for a flight I wasn’t originally scheduled to take today. I left home at the crack of early, boarded a bus in City By the Sea and headed for the Beantown, only to have the trip take twice as long as usual due to the unfortunate weather conditions continuing to persist in New England. It just won’t stop raining, and roads are flooded. Route 1 in the vicinity of Beantown was closed, and the bus took an alternate route, along with everybody else.
On the bus I watched (almost) two movies, “The School of Rock” (pretty good for a bus ride) and “Proof” (how does it end? is it worth renting it to find out?) and worked on a sock for The Princess.
I arrived at the airport about fifteen minutes after my flight was closed, moments before it lifted off.
The next flight to Hotlanta was already full, save one first class seat I might have had for a mere $754 one way.
I must admit it was somewhat tempting. You see, the RevGals are meeting for an early dinner, and I am now getting in too late to meet them.
I am one sad bird.
St. Casserole and I have been in touch by phone. She was counting on me to help her recognize the RevGals at the meet-up point this afternoon. I told her to look for reverendmother. She’ll be the one with the baby. I probably ought to have suggested looking for the red toenail polish, too.
And so I wait, drinking a Starbucks mocha and eating a cinnamon scone. There is a suspiciously clerical looking woman sitting in the same waiting area (short grey hair, glasses, mostly black clothes with a good-looking jacket, prominent cross). I’m tempted to introduce myself and ask if she’s going to the Festival, too.
I don’t think I look particularly clerical with my long, wild and curly hair and the adorable beaded-trimmed denim jacket bought under St. C’s influence while in the Disaster Zone. I am wearing my favorite preaching shoes, a pair of reliable Birkenstock loafers in dire need of replacement.
I left all my bracelets and earrings at home. I bought some earrings in the Metropolitan Museum gift shop here in the airport. Why is there a Met store in Beantown, I ask you?
Please leave comments, as I am a lonely Songbird with another 45 minutes until boarding time. And pray that I get there in time to hear Barbara Brown Taylor preach tonight.