The trip home went off without a hitch until I got to Denver International. I needed eight dollars even Steven to board the bus for Stapleton where Phyllis had sworn to God Almighty she wouldn't forget to fetch me. I love her to Reese's pieces but dang it, she can be nearly as forgetful as me on occasion and it just tends to bust my butt.
I think I've picked up a few of my brother's metaphors after aggravating him for a few days. When I asked him how his shower was, he said that had he known a shower felt that good, he'd have taken one last week. When I startled him by speaking behind him when he thought I was upstairs, he said he could have gone all day without that. He said that Florida was a place full of old people and their parents. When we got ice cream cones in the heat and they were melting, and his "lady friend" told him he'd better hurry up and lick it, he asked her if that was an order. I could have gone all day without hearing an innuendo like that from my own brother. DOUBLE EW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The first ATM I tried said it couldn't read my card. I asked at the information booth where there might be another one, and the kind gentlemen said, as if he was in a speed talking contest, "Go under that down escalator to the right, around the corner to the left, make another right at the end of the concourse, take the up escalator to the United Baggage claim, when you see a statue of Mount Evans, keep going until you come to a T intersection. Go left until you see an elevator and go to the third floor. There's one right there. You can't miss it."
I managed to find it, dragging my suitcase and avoiding all of the other weary travelers dragging their suitcases and listening to the omniscient female voice telling me I could only carry a small quantity of gels on board. That ATM worked but then I had to get change so I bought a steak soft taco, found an empty table and took care of that.
Finally, luck was swinging my way. I had eight dollars even Steven and exited to where the Sky Ride picked up folks bound for Stapleton. And it had just pulled up! As I was inserting my dollars into the machine, the driver stepped out to load baggage. I wondered how he would have known whether I had actually paid the full eight dollars. The little machine did not spit out a ticket, and he never asked for one. But I am an honest traveler and did not regret the trouble I had suffered just to pay an honest eight dollars for my ride.
As the bus pulled up, sure enough, there was Phyllis sitting on a bench, waiting. Her head was down and I thought she might be asleep. I was hoping she might be too excited to see me and unable to fall asleep on a bus bench having only been there five minutes, but you never know about Phyllis. She can fall asleep faster than you can shake a gator's tail at water moccasin. Something like that.
Phyllis had her head down because of the gale force winds blowing dust into her face from the construction site. But did she go back to her car? No, she did not. She was there to greet me as I stepped off that bus, wiping mud off her mouth. It was great to be home!
