May 14, 2004 - Rainy Day Quest

I told her it wasn't possible that day, but if she gave me her hotel info, we could get together for lunch Monday before she left. I didn't hear anything more from her until Monday morning, when I checked my e-mail and found her schedule for the day, as well as her cell phone number.

She was receiving her award at the University of Pennsylvania campus and had suggested getting something to eat near the Philadelphia Airport before she had to catch her plane. But when I said something to The Gryphon about this, he said there's really nothing down by the airport except maybe a Denny's.

So at the time she was supposed to be free, I called her on the cell phone and suggested it would be better if we would meet on the campus and go someplace close by.

Now, I don't know that area of town particularly well, but I did a little online searching and discovered there were some restaurants in the area. One thing I couldn't find was any indication of where to park, but I didn't think this would be a problem.

What I didn't count on was some sort of weird construction right in the area where I was supposed to meet her. I drove past her building first and had to navigate through a convoluted loop of one-way streets to get back. Then, finally, I picked her up at the curb in front of the building where she'd received her award.

Of course, by then my left turn signal had burned out, and between that, the oppressive rain and the lack of any signs of a parking garage, I was feeling discombobulated. I said to her that I wasn't sure where we could find parking, and she said that now that we were in the car, we might as well go to someplace I do know.

I suggested we go to a Thai restaurant which is close to The Bridge movie theater. So we drove over there, I parked in the parking garage I always park in, and as we walked the few blocks to the restaurant, I told her I'd treat her to lunch. But after we'd walked several blocks in the pouring rain, she in her high heels, wouldn't you know it? The restaurant wasn't open until 5. It was 4 p.m.

The other restaurants in the immediate area were also closed. But I told her I knew of an Indian buffet nearby that should be open, since I thought they offered a lunch buffet. I asked her if that would be OK. She said it would because she said it was really the company that mattered.

As luck would have it, the buffet was open and that's where we ate.

We caught up on old times, shared freelancing stories, such as editors who don't pay you on time or sometimes don't want to pay you at all. We talked about things like dieting. She said that if she did nothing but travel, she would lose a lot of weight because she hardly eats anything when she travels. I noticed that she only selected a small amount of food at the buffet. This made me wonder if she really hadn't wanted to eat at the Indian place but was too polite to say no.

She had flown down all the way from Canada, and I'm not sure when I last saw her in person, but I think it was probably at the wedding of a good friend of ours. And that would have been back in about 1995. Something like that. It's been awhile.

Of course, I wouldn't have looked too different to her. I'd gained and then lost 45 pounds since she'd last seen me. When I think back to it, I remember exactly what I weighed at that wedding, and it was what I weigh right now.

She asked me I would drive her to the airport or whether she was better off getting a cab. I told her that, quite honestly, she'd be better off with a cab because I could just as easily get us lost. I'd been to the airport once and had to take directions with me to do it. I didn't trust myself to do it again.

Besides, as it turns out, by the time we finished dinner, chatted a little bit, walked back to the car and helped her hail a cab — which took awhile, since neither of us was aggressive enough — and I drove back home, I only had about a half an hour to spare before my evening assignments started. So in terms of timing, I wouldn't have been able to fit in a trip to the airport.

This particular friend has been something of a mentor to me. She's made a nice living as a freelance writer and encouraged me to give it a try. What's more, she was happy to offer ideas and tips and point me to resources. It was nice to be able to pay her back a little, in person.

Before she left she showed me her award. It was very impressive looking: crystal with her name engraved on it. I hope she didn't get hassled, trying to get it on the plane. It had some sharp-looking edges.

As it turns out, even though I had told a number of our friends she would be in town for the weekend, and even though some of them had contacted her, none but me had been able to meet her in person. I'm glad I was able to, because I think it means something when you fly across the continent for something like an award, that at least one friend will meet up with you and congratulate you.

As a footnote to this narrative, the turn signal was not easy to fix by myself, even after consulting the owner's manual, which had a very useless diagram. I wasn't able to figure out how to remove the proper cover to get at the bulb to replace it, so I took it to the dealer, where they replaced it for free.

A painless experience. On my way out of the shop, the guy who'd worked on my car said I'd probably received a survey in the mail about my service. He asked me, if I felt the service was good, to give him the highest rating. Anything less than that, he said, was viewed as failure by his boss. This seems particularly unfair, and he might have been scamming me, but he seemed sincere.

I promised that I'd give him the highest rating, since the replacement went smoothly. I was feeling generous. My turn signal was fixed, and it was a sunny day.

Moral:
Sometimes the company is what matters.