South station

Uncle D had been here, getting ready to leave for a 3 month trip to Australia/N Zealand... time of departure is nearing. From this apt- excluding taxis, which are expensive- the fastest way, generally, to get to the airport is to trot 10 min or so (depending on how fast you trot) to the metro, go 7 stops on the metro (about 30 min, maybe less, I don't pay much attention actually) to the train station, go through the tunnel and exit at the South Station and get on the airport bus. This trip is an hour if there are no major traffic jams- so the deal is, you don't leave for the airport at the last min. So, What was I talking about? Oh- Unc'a D- so, he gets his shirt ironed... this is important because... well, it just is.


And, more so because the next thing that happens is the lights are gone- zip... and Elain's ironing comes to a screeching halt as do a few other things. Fine. Unc'a D is nonetheless ironed, starched and ready to leave for the airport... now, we're on the 13th floor, so I'm thinking that I really hope he doesn't want help getting to the airport... I mean, going down 13 flights of steps is one thing...but coming back up them, if by chance the power is off for a long time- well, yikes... Ummm.... Whew- nope, he'll go by himself. Where are the stairs? I'll show you I say... and out the door, down the hall, around the corner, around the corner we go- There, I say. Have a good trip... We'll try not to burn the house down while you're gone.


Coming back, I notice that all the lights in the hallway are on and the elevator is running... ooops. (should I include that in an email to the poor man who hauled a suitcase and carry-on bag down 13 flights of steps?)Well, this does not bode well for us. We investigate the breaker box. Nothing amiss there... but we do notice that the meters for the neighbors' apts are all whirring away. Yuck. Call the housing people. Call the electrician. He has a voice like an elephant on sandpaper. Where? You gunna be home this afternoon? You gunna be home tonight? Well OK.


And we spent the whole day without power. In the early evening, Phyllis says I hear someone out in the hall- will you just stick your head out and see if it's the electrician? I do. It is. He's got the neighbor's meter all pulled apart. Tell him our dilemna. He grins. 10 min later, the lights come on. We pay him and he leaves (he wanted liquor but we were out...)About 8.30 pm there's someone at the door. I open it- a man with a voice like an elephant on sandpaper. Tu....8 (our address) apartment 000? umm, yesssss... (me) Well, your lights. huh? (me) YOUR LIGHTS. I'm so sorry, I say. Someone already fixed it; I thought it was you people.