All about a Cab

So it started today with a cab. Or, rather, not a cab -- I ordered it last night, but at 7:30 this morning...no cab. There Emi and I sit, two HUGE bags packed for Florida (and Paris, in Emi's case), two packed-to-the-gills backpacks, and a loudly-meowing cat in a tiny carrier. And no stinkin' cab. I call, but they don't take calls. So I e-mail them, knowing it's useless. Emi starts to freak (I was too, but I was working pretty hard to hide it), and so she calls another service: they say it'll take 45 minutes just for them to get to us and it'll cost $65. WHAT?!? Since she has good common sense, Emi politely told them to go to hell. And we head out, with all our crap, to lug everything up the many stairs to the train station. We get five steps...and we see a black car with a car service logo: it's our cab! It's finally our missing cab! The poor guy lifts my 77lb bag into the trunk (along with everything else), we hop into the back, and Ginger serenades us with tortured meows the entire way to JFK airport.

Life is wonderful. We get to the airport...and then they weigh our bags. And, yup, I'm at 77lbs. Emi's kind enough to let me load a few pounds of books into her bag, and we head over to the dreaded security line...with Ginger. At this point, I'm freaking -- last time I went through security with my cat, it was an ordeal. And that was Portland Oregon...nothing like the chaos of JFK. Of course I shouldn't have worried: Emi calmly pulls Ginger out of the carrier (Ginger was far from calm -- she tried to take the carrier bottom with her by force), and waltzes through security as if it's a walk in the damn park.

Through a late cab and security with a pet in tow, we got to our gate....TWO HOURS EARLY. Must be time for hot chocolate and coffee. :)

The flight itself was uneventful (thank goodness!). Not even any jokes from the cockpit. Emi did eat blue potato chips, and since when are blue potato chips the norm? I'm from the dark ages, I swear.

We grabbed a Super Shuttle (which Emi had the foresight to reserve), and then we got the grand tour of Saint Petersburg: never have I seen such a combination of golf courses, run-down single-level homes, random jungle moments, and gated communities. We were the last to get dropped off. I think probably because the driver wanted to take his lunch break here. We saw the van parked near the beach when we went to go find food...so it wasn't just my crazy imagination. Really. I swear. Emi thinks all Super Shuttles look alike, but clearly she didn't see the gleam of anticipation in the eye of the driver at going to Pass-a-Grille.

Then, to kick it all off, I get a call at 6:39pm tonight...from the cab company, asking if I ordered a cab for 6:30. What? No, I say -- I ordered a cab for 7:30 THIS MORNING. Poor guy sounded a little confused and hung up. Less than a minute later I get another call, this one probably from his supervisor. I got a little snippy, and he sounded appropriately apologetic.

So how did we get a cab to the airport this morning? Still figuring that one out...talk about some seriously good luck, despite how it felt in the moment.