T-to-the-A

Whatever you do, Don’t Touch the Mailbox!

In The Daily Drool on September 1, 2009 at 11:22 am

After a rough start – 1 hour delay due to explosive vomit in first class and then a leaky lavatory, we were finally off to Boston.  I had grumbled onto the plane, bent out of shape about the $20 surcharge my checked-bag incurred, and settled down between the two husky chaps bordering my seat, vowing that I would starve before I gave American Airlines anymore of my cold hard cash (or Visa’s for that matter)  but after the delay it became apparent that I was going to have to eat something besides the bag of lays and smuggled oreo’s pressed into my purse.

That $10 salad didn’t even come close to earning it’s keep- but it did keep the rumbling at bay.

Aside from the “To eat or not to eat” dilemma and my burly neighbors who (thankfully) surrendered the arm rests to my weary elbows, the flight went smoothly and I walked off and into the cool Boston night.  Kathleen and Mark are hosting me in their lovely home and put up the (rather cushy) air mattress in the living room- right next to some supreme looking toys.  After some good laughing and wine drinking it was time to bed.  Their last bit of advice before lights out was to avoid the singing mailbox.

Now, what?

It’s a plastic mailbox with a happy little bird perched atop its crest that sings about the mail.  “Let’s mail some leteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeers!”  in a chipper tune.  Something to stay away from at all costs, for a little sacharine postal praise is the last thing one wants to hear in the middle of the night.

And now it’s a beautiful autumn day in Boston and the air is cool ( a deilicious change from the LA fire-air I’ve been breathing the past week) and I’m relaxing into “Vacation.”  I’m so glad to be here and meeting my second cousins, on my way to DC in a couple days, and excited to meet everyone at the Kennedy Center.

But whatever you do, don’t touch the mailbox!

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