I AM a nice guy and I DO try to keep that under my hat. We all have reputations to maintain, after all.
Sadly Bob blew into town at the worst possible time for me. We're in the middle of a move and I really only had that one night to hang out. I've spent the last five days wondering just where in the hell I accumulated so much junk.
So, yeah, Bob met my son, my wife, the cat, and saw the apartment we've just vacated. Unfortunately, I'm not sure my son made the best possible impression. He is an airplane and airline and airport fanatic, and each time we go to the airport either to look at planes and mess around or to pick someone up, no matter how much advance explanation I give, once it dawns on him that he and I are in fact not going to travel anywhere but that I have instead cruelly exposed him to the proximity of airline travel without the logical follow-through, AGAIN!, well, he reacts with what many might consider a disproportionate level of disappointment.
He will be five in exactly one week. I expect him to grow out of this at some point in the next ten years, but I guess you never really know. I suppose he could just take matters into his own hands and enroll himself in flight school.
Anyway, I expect Bob has made it to the other end of the country by now and is getting settled in. I sincerely wish him the best possible experience out there. There's not a lot not to like about where he's going to be living, and I hope it gives him everything he's looking for.
He wandered out of the customs area carrying two smallish suitcases and a folding garment bag. Heavy, sure, but I couldn't help but reflect on the utter portability of the totality of the man's earthly possessions versus the mounds of fking garbage that I have been shuttling from place to place.
I never thought I'd say this, but you could find yourself taking a valuable lesson from good old Buford.
He's a nice guy, too, but I assume you guys already figured that.
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