He called a service for us to see if they could come on short notice. They were, and arrived at about 11:30. The advantage of a car service is that it's a set price to the airport: $42 + $8 (tolls) + tip.
Coming into the city, the taxis are regulated, so at the airport, you get a fixed price quotation for your destination. Evidently, on the way back, you are subject to "the meter."
Our driver arrived in a BAC (big-ass car), a Lincoln I believe, with leather seats, and that most-coveted of all amenities, air conditioning.
Our driver spoke to us long enough to confirm that we were going to the Newark Airport and that we would be paying cash. The rest of the way, he spoke into the air, answering to a device in his ear, in a foreign language.
I said to Steve, "How are we supposed to know when he's talking to us?"
"When he speaks English," Steve said.
We both made phone calls on the way, Steve checking his voice mail messages, while I checked in with Robert.
At the airport, I bought a Turkey Wrap from Seattle's Best Coffee. There were two halves to this sandwich, sitting sitting side-by-side in a clear plastic container.
When biting into about the last inch of the first half of the thing, where the soft tortilla was tightly wound to keep it together, I noticed a piece of that deli paper they sometimes, well, wrap the wraps in. I pulled it out, while thinking, "I could easily have missed that in there."
Immediately after that, I thought about how crunchy I thought the lettuce was on this wrap. "Uh-oh."
I checked the other wrap, and sure enough the entire thing was wrapped in this paper, and it was stuck well into the flap of the tortilla wrap. I removed it all of it before eating this half. The lettuce on this half was far less crunchy.
After a gate change from 30 to 35, I took a seat in the new area. Beside me, about four seats to the left, sat a man whose taste in clothes was so pathetic that even I could tell.
He had on shiny, black Penny Loafers, white mid-calf length socks, green cargo shorts, a vertical striped green and white shirt, and a Navy Blue dress blazer. I want you to re-read this, and visualize it.
Steve and I were in seats 14B &C. This man ended up in seat 14A. It was an American Eagle flight, so the A seat was on the left side, then the aisle, and our two seats on the right side, so we had the aisle between us.
Shortly after getting settled in, Steve nudged me to look over at the guy's feet. He had taken off his loafers. His white soxed feet were on the floor of the plane, on the outside of his shoes.
In the left shoe was his wallet, and in the right one was, at least as far as I could see, his watch and his cell phone.
I'm ambivalent about whether this is more, or less, eccentric than wearing two wrist watches, one digital and one analog.
Robert was a dear, and right on time to pick us up. Our luggage arrived fairly quickly, and we were on our way.
We met Joe and Loren at Dakota Grill at 6:00 for dinner. Actually, we were about 10 minutes late.
I had Fish & Chips. Robert had a taco.
We had a very young, very handsome waiter, who was quite good. He was totally attentive to everyone in the place. His belt buckle that said in big block letters, "Spank Me," seemed a little inappropriate, however.
We met Joe and Loren out later at Flex, where it was "blackout" night. There were things going on there that don't normally go on there; let's just leave it at that.
Later on, we went to CCs, where we renewed our memberships at the door, and only stayed a little while.