Going to the airport on Sunday of Thanksgiving week-end
Desperate people
Fighting hordes to reach exits
Slog toward O’Hare.
We drive in the dark
Thanksgiving plane clusterfuck
Cargo road again.
(I liked the part where Sam leapt out of the driver’s seat to get her suitcase and I got out of the rear and went around to take over the helm. The seatbelt thwarted my first attempt to close the passenger side door, leading the kindly officer outside Terminal 1 to first commiserate with me briefly on seatbelts, and then to stand behind the car and stop the adjoining lane of traffic to help me enter the monster’s mouth. To him, I seemed clearly in over my head.)
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Subbing last week
We got this! I say.
I make circles with clipboard
Many of them work.
Glossaries abound
Translating Don Quijote –
El Polvo the dust.
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Almost done subbing I think. I let that last period slip off the chain and I should have done better by the more responsible kids in the classroom. I should have called the office and sent someone to the purgatory of the Dean’s office. But my miscreants did not seem worth the effort.
Not well done.
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Zombie phrase for the day: We will attack at the airport on Sunday of Thanksgiving week-end. They will be helpless.
Eeelll uhhhdahhgg duhh ehhhrorrhhhnnn uhhhnayyyvv dayynnnnggihhbbinnn eeegeehhhn. Dayylll bee ehllbusss.
