Seven hour drive from NY to VA today. Beautiful, clear, cool day. Rural Pennsylvania was more attractive than I have ever seen it.
Now that I'm in civilization again, my cell phone actually works. I've spent the night calling friends.
On Sunday, I phoned Northwest Airlines, who obviously couldn't fulfill my return flight from Rochester to New Orleans. I asked them to change my ticket from Washington Dulles to Nashville instead. Changing both airports was a problem, but when I tried to explain that I'm now a jolly homeless refugee, I was met with browbeatings from their rigid corporate policy. They wanted to charge $200 for the change.
Tonight I rang them again and got someone with a soul on the phone. "It's done," she said, after pecking away at the keys. I told her she just did her part for the night to help a hurricane victim. She giggled.
So I'll be in Nashville on the 11th. One night only. Angie? Keith? Gabriele? Others? Let's do it up right, yo, N'awlins style!
Ben and I fly to Vegas on the 12th to lock ourselves in a hotel room for three days and assess just what the hell we're going to do with the next couple of months. And to have a lot of natural disaster sex (which, I understand, is almost as good as make-up sex).
Then on to San Francisco for a while to see oh, just so many people. Wonderful, wonderful people who are wonderful in their wonderfulness.
Saturday, the 17th, I am summoning all SF'ers to Café du Nord on Market Street for a big old Pity Party! W00T!*
Exhausted from the day, and broken from the week. Off to bed.
* Any of the above plans will be put on hold the moment I am allowed to return home for a day to get stuff from Clifford, or when it is announced my cats have been rescued.