Yesterday went so smoothly, for what could have been a playing out of one Murphy's Law after another.
After having to get up early every morning in Denver to make it to my Shambhala Training classes in Boulder, I slept in on Monday morning then lazily soaked in the perfect comfort of reading in bed. (Lovely Bones. A can't-put-this-down type of read.) Which is why I was totally late in getting on the road to Boulder. Hadn't eaten/hadn't had coffee, so was growly and low-blood sugary while navigating the all-time ugliest rental car anyone's ever had the pleasure to steer down interstates 25 and 36.
Beyond hunger, I knew I wanted two things: something ultra healthy (and proteiny) and something deliciously warm, liquid, and packed with caffeine. I couldn't find the restaurant I wanted to eat at (just Whole Foods, which I'd gone to the night before, but for the life of me I coudn't find it Monday in the daylight). Ended up (again) at the Boulder Bookstore and had the best coffee of my life (an double Americana; I added cream) and a breakfast burrito. Plus, somehow yet another book and dark chocolate-espresso bar made it into my little hands. I bought four books and four magazines and four dark chocolate/espresso bars in four days. I'm still kicking myself for not getting the Boulder Bookstore frequent buyer card on my first day.
The whole purpose of going into Boulder on Monday was to visit my Uncle Ken. And okay, the thought of one more sweep down Pearl street didn't exactly hamper the trip either. I made it to my uncle's without getting lost (and this was after leaving Pearl Street late). I had such a great time. Seeing his place, seeing his new paintings (some finished, some in progress), seeing older paintings on the walls, the beautiful mirrors (in a stained glass style, but only mirrors and no colors) that remind me of my childhood (memories of early childhood are decorated with my uncle's artwork), seeing his computer studio (he edits movies and designs). Then, stayed too late, engrossed in one great conversation after another, and still needing to get to the airline, drop off my rental car, check in, etc. (Of course) I didn't have directions to the airport (but had just come from there four days before... how hard could it be?) and my uncle's helpful instructions were "follow the airplane on the freeway signs." (Which made me laugh cuz those might be the exact directions I would give someone, too). So, I left Boulder late... but it all worked out so easily. Barely any traffic. Expertly found and followed all freeway airplane icons. Made it to the airport in well under an hour. Dropping off the rental could not have been easier. Weaved myself through that damned Denver concourse. Got a window seat.
Then [insert pause], we sat on the tarmac. A thunder/lightening storm was passing through and all groundspeople were pulled off the tarmac, so no luggage was being put into our plane. So we sat and sat and sat. My connecting flight was scheduled to depart only 50 minutes after landing in Los Angeles, so I was beginning to reset my expectations tospending extra time at LAX waiting for the next connector.
With only 20 minutes to spare when we finally pulled into the gate at LAX (not even deboarding yet), I had enough time to look at the departure screen and decide I did not want to wait another three hours at the terminal and I began to run. Airports are one of the last vesibules of approved areas for adults to run when not in jogging outfits. All other times you will be deemed, judged, determined, and stamped "freak." I made it to the gate with not even a second to spare. They scooted me on the shuttle bus that would take me to the airplane (puddle jumper). All this and my luggage ended up making it, too. (Not sure how that worked, but divine intervention has come to mind).
*And* I finished "Lovely Bones." Great book. It even choked me up a few times. Perfect travel read.
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