I wrote this post a few days ago, posted it, and brother called me soon after, concerned that something had happened, mentally or physically. Apparently that’s how bad it was written. So here is my second attempt at describing my weekend in Pittsburgh visiting family and my journey home.
Since we don’t get to see the Australian cousins often, we took lots of picture.
I didn’t take any pictures of food, but we were introduced to a delicious pizza, the “Daniele” which was fresh mozzarella, red onion, parmiagiano reggiano, rosemary, PISTACHIOS, extra virgin olive oil. The pistachios were surprisingly good on pizza, I think I’ll attempt it next time I make my own. (Though, I may never use my oven after that dreadful mouse poop experience).
And then there was my adventure home. It started with walking up the steps onto a tiny plane. There should be a rule against mini-planes. Zoey’s Rules of Flying. #1. If it’s so small that a jet bridge won’t connect to it, and my purse won’t fit in the overhead – it can’t fly. Or at least a discount should be involved somewhere. Just thinking about those narrow stairs reminds me of my very terrible, horrible, no good adventure with Belle, the ridiculous dog.
Once onboard and everyone ready to go, the pilot announced that “the thing that starts the engine and the AC has gone bad”. (I don’t think he used the words “thing” and “bad”, but all I heard was “engine” and I was freaking out) So not only was every shvitzing, but we were worried about the plane falling out of the sky. Or maybe that was just me. Zoey’s Rules of Flying #2. A pilot may not mention that anything is wrong with the engine. We need to defrost the outside, fine. Routine maintenance check, go right ahead. Someone has a feeling that something is wrong with the left phalange, or there is NO phalange! – I’m perfectly (almost) calm. Just DON’T mention the ENGINE.
All I could think about while we were in the air was “omg, the engine might stop, and he WONT BE ABLE TO TURN IT BACK ON!!” The AC certainly never turned on.. I have a feeling they kickstarted the engine and said, “alright, you’re good to go”.
Not to worry, we arrived in New York safe and soundish. I was so happy to be back in the city, smelling the air, riding in a race car (the driver thought he was a Indy 500 driver) until we got to my apartment. It went something like this.
Driver: Are you paying with cash?
Me: No, I only have a card.
Driver: (mumble, mumble, asshole, f$%# mumble, mumble)
Me: (Instead of giving him the 20% minimum tip, I gave him $2.)
Driver: I don’t want your money, but you know you gave me a bad tip?
Me: Yes, you just mumbled a bunch of curse words at me not 5 seconds ago.
Driver: (Screaming) F$%#ing white people and their credit cards, (other screaming) As$hole!
Worried that he would drive off with my suitcase in the trunk, I quickly got out, suggested to the woman waiting to get in that she not, grabbed my luggage, and he sped off with the doors open. At least I have my stuff, my magically curling iron was in there!
Good to be back. It’s going to be a fun week. There are 7 visitors coming from 4 different states, I’ll be seeing Rory Gilmore in Regrets, volunteering at a bridal show, and seeing a friend’s art in a REAL museum. Woo! Can’t wait for all of it.