Midnight Misadventures
Dear Diary,
It’s been some time since my last confession. But only because I’ve had nothing particularly interesting to recount over the past eight months. Work at the office has picked up more intensely than ever, and just when I thought I had found some semblance of happy stability in my private life, it was over before I knew it.
But what goes around comes around, and old friendships long thought faded suddenly crop up like mushrooms after a rainy day. So it was with great excitement that, over the span of a few days, that I simultaneously reconnected with two dear friends I hadn’t seen in months.
One of them, a chef, longtime best friend and my brother from another mother; the other, a scientist, singer, historian and fashion model hobbyist. Let’s call them Jack and Jill.
One fateful day, Jack messages me from across the Atlantic with the following:
You need to understand that I’ve known this guy for twenty-two years, and when he says he wants to hang out, we hang out. As we’re discussing his travel plans, my mind starts racing with all the possibilities for shenanigans I know we’ll get into. Days turn into weeks, and soon Jack’s got his main itinerary planned out: two and a half weeks in the land of Swiss Army knives, cheese and mutual contempt for those who speak the same language as you but with a slightly different ü.
Meanwhile, Jill and I meet for a long-awaited B&G (Burgers & Gossip) where we realize how much fun we have hanging out. She casually says how we should have coffee more often (Sure!), play board games (Of course!), go to cool events (Absolutely!), go to Scotland together (Wait, what?)
– No, really, Scotland, I’m serious! It could be fun!- I mean, sure, Jill, but when? With whom? Just you and me?
And then, it hit me.
A stomach ache. The burger was way too good and I ate way too fast. And now this news about this supposed Scottish trip. Who else would want to come?
And then, it hit me.
Jack.
I fired up my trusty MSN Mes… – I mean – WhatsApp and immediately invited my old friend to join Jill and I on this kilt-infused travel idea. He says yes. I want to say “Hurrah!” but then quickly realize people in the 21st century don’t say “Hurrah!” anymore so instead I say:
Skip to today, May 24th, 9pm. Geneva airport.Jack, Jill and I are joined by Jack’s good friend … Let’s call him Jim. We’ve planned our trip. We’ve packed our bags. We’re waiting at the airport for our gate to be announced, and because whatever can go wrong often does go wrong, the departures screen now flashes “Delayed” next to our flight.
New departure time: “23:35”, aka “Sucks to be you”.They may take away our time, but they’ll never take away our freedom… to use that time productively for research.
What a great start to the trip.