Woke up in the morning, walked the dog, waited for the plumber to arrive to replace the hot water heater.
Plumber arrives, spends next three hours replacing 16 year old heater.
I pack. Clean. Get nervous about time it's taking to replace heater (unreasonably, I'm sure).
Plumber leaves. Old heater left on parkway. Expect ticket from NYC-DOS on returning from Miami.
Scramble to finish packing. Desperately look for noise-reduction headphones. Give up.
Get car, drop Frisket off at Monstermutt.
Try to get to LGA in time for 4:16 flight to Miami.
Avert accident on GCP where two limos and a NYC taxi attempt the physically impossible.
It is still true: no three objects can occupy the same space or lane at the same time.
Arrive LGA, park car. Nervous about parking car at LGA.
Check in, zip through security behind couple complaining about $65 tickets to Florida.
Contemplate that my ticket was much, much more due to change in plans to accomodate the death of the water heater.
Arrive LGA Admiral's Club, ask if flight is on time:
Certainly. No weather or equipment problems.
Bop down to gate at boarding time. Notice large number of anxious people.
Departure time arrives and gate door opens to permit previous passengers off plane.
Boarding call for First classs. 200 people rush the gate.
Perhaps I exaggerate, a 737 cannot hold 200 people.
But certainly more people attempt to board than there are seats in First Class.
Boarding call for Executive Platinum and Platinum. 184 people rush the gate.
Again, I exaggerate. However fully half of the flight apparently consists of people who are Platinum level.
Board plane. Squeeze into middle exit row seat.
Attempt to listen to music. Replacement headphones no match for aircraft's P.A. music.
Passengers on both sides begin to cough.
This continues for the next 200 hours of the flight.
(I exaggerate, they stopped briefly during the flight).
Plane eventually takes off around 5:30 p.m.
Pilot announces we will land around 8:30 p.m.
Miami gate crew takes note and parks replacement plane at our destination gate.
The flight is uneventful except for being poked and prodded by co-passengers attempting to work on plane.
I doze and listen to a rambling mix of R.E.M, New Order, The Magnetic Fields, and some unmemorable trance gorp.
Around 7:15 we start initial descent to Miami, a full hour earlier than expected.
Around this time the Miami ramp crew is contemplating what to do with the Airbus which has been parked at our gate and which has allegedly broken down.
We land at 7:30.
Pilot announces that our gate is blocked by an aircraft with a problem.
We finally reach the gate at 8:00 p.m.
The gate is actually somewhere in Boca and we walk what seems to be several miles to the exit.
Finally I reach the exit where Lisa and her mother pick me up.
Coco greets me very excitedly.
We eat dinner, arrive at the condo.
I call the house to verify it hasn't disappeared due to the new water heater.
Two messages on the machine, the first consists of my attempt to enter the password for the machine.
The second is a terse message from the storage locker manager in Illinois.
Please call this number, it is urgent.
I contemplate all the possible reasons for the locker manager to call me.
Billing is ok, they charge me monthly.
They know how to reach me obviously.
So, obviously, someone has broken in and stolen everything in the locker.
The fact that the locker contains (contained?) almost solely photos and geneology research from my mother's estate would likely not deter someone from grabbing all the nicely packed boxes.
I call the number and reach an answering machine.
I look up the main number for the storage place online and call....placed on interminable, indeterminate hold.
At 10:30 p.m.
I contemplate the fact that this is supposed to be a 24 hour staffed facility.
I contemplate driving to Illinois next week to retrieve what, if anything remains of the locker contents.
I call again...there are few physical things I have of my parents, and they are mostly in that locker due to lack of space in our place in Brooklyn.
I contemplate all the possible ways to break into the storage locker.
How to evade the security cameras, the passcode to enter the facility, the two locks I placed on the locker.
Perhaps this is fortuitous since I can't actually find the key to one of the locks.
These thoughts keep me awake most of the night.
Finally, this morning I call the locker manager.
They have the wrong address. That is all.
Nothing wrong with the locker.
I contemplate placing my brain on waivers due to its propensity to run ahead of itself.
And also, whether or not to drive to Illinois anyway.
e.p.c. posted this at 16:29 GMT on 28-Jan-2006 .