I finished my final exams and headed home for a few days. My friend Ken was driving through and his sweet diesel Rabbit (the one with the unsanded and unpainted bondo on the side) broke down out on the interstate. I drove out and picked him up and my dad paid to tow the piece into town and to get fixed. Ken spent one night at our house. My little brother had his first kiss and told Ken all about it.
I saw a few other friends and family briefly, and then left on a plane on Sunday.
I had arranged for an extra day in LA to see some friends. Todd and Francene picked me up and I crashed one night at their place in Bellflower. Monday we played golf with Remington--who was down from Edmonton for some reason--and some other dude I have no recollection of. The play was superslow and by the 7th hole it finally dawned on me I might miss my flight. We passed a group on 8, played the ninth, and jumped in the car. Remington drove me to LAX in his Prelude. I was late and getting panicked and he drove faster and faster. He was routinely over 100 mph as we darted through traffic. When he dropped me at the curb it was only a few minutes before departure. The TSA didn't exist yet, and I was rushed through to the gate only to find the plane had already pulled out. Falling under the category of "things that would never happen today," they drove me out to the plane and I climbed a long metal staircase to board while everyone else waited.
Despite the inauspicious beginning, I eventually landed at Kimpo on April 21. I was completely exhausted, except for the overly active butterflies in my stomach…
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1 comment:
yeah seriously. can you imagine being late to an international flight nowadays and mentioning so much as a "hey, do you think you could stop the plan and drive me up to it? that would be great, thanks."
i'm really enjoying these stories. please keep filling in the spaces!
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