I got up earlier than usual, even though I was out the previous night until almost 1am, celebrating good fortune and imminent home ownership at Willie's and then on to the Quaff. I managed to get into the office earlier than most of the rest of my team, and actually got right to work. As I learn more at this job, I get busier and busier. I cut out at about 11:30am to complete the prearranged half day. I went home and ate a take-home hamburger from Grinders from earlier in the week, packed, and climbed into my filthy, filthy car to go to KCI.
I got on the plane about ten minutes late, and we took off 35 minutes late, but still managed to land on time in Boston. The meals on Midwest Airlines used to be the pride of the industry, with complimentary drinks, individual attention, and a personal touch that no other airline would offer. Now, I find that it's little different than any other airline, except that their seats will accommodate fatter people than most. They still make cookies for the passengers, but I don't really see that as an advantage.
I was hungry, so I opted for the $5 lesser meal: a chicken salad tapas wrap. What it actually turned out to be was quite a disappointment, especially for five of my dollars. It was a cold chicken slime in a crumbly piece of something that passed for a pita, with a side of what appeared to be a half-completed portion of stale potato chips. However, as disappointing as the food was, they didn't even have enough of it. I was in about the middle of the plane, and they offered food to about six rows behind me, my row, and on until about four rows in front me before they announced to the assembled passengers that no more food was available. Roughly two thirds of the plane had to go without.
They passed out cookies soon afterward, and as I read, I felt my eyes beginning to droop. I set down my book and made such comfort as I could in the airline seat I had. I hovered about 80% asleep for about an hour, and woke up to my ears popping as we made our descent into Boston. All things considered, it was a nice flight. Also let it be known that I will continue to use Midwest for this route, as they are the only carrier that offers nonstop service between KC and Boston.
Fate conspired against Julia meeting me at the airport on Thursday, as we had arranged, manifested in a serious injury at her plant that required her attention for the remainder of the usable day. So I hopped on the Blue Line at Logan to Government Center, where I caught the D-line to Brookline Village. I dragged my suitcase up a couple of streets in startling cold, before Carl appeared across the street to walk me the rest of the way back to his place.
We dropped off my effects and made a beeline for the Publick House, a brisk fifteen minute walk away. We enjoyed some food whose nature I don't remember, and were joined by a friend of Carl's named Denise. The beer, as with many places I was to visit this weekend, was excellent. I had a delicious beer from Boulder Brewing called Mojo Risin'. It was hoppy and malty at the same time, and reminded me at once of Dogfish Head's 90-Minute IPA. We enjoyed more beers, and stayed out far later than Carl had intended, considering he had to work in the morning.
Slightly numbed to the cold, we walked back to Carl's after we called it a night. I fell comfortably and heavily asleep on the extra bed they had in their surprisingly gigantic apartment.