My friend Angela was flying home to Boston yesterday for Thanksgiving with her family; I was her ride to the airport (though I just realized we have no arrangements for a ride home from the airport—A, if you’re reading this, call me with your return flight details). A 12:30 PM flight, so we figured we’d leave around ten and get her there with a ton of time to get through security and boarding and all that shit.

Slight hitch: her flight was actually arriving in Boston at 12:30, but leaving DC an hour-and-a-half earlier. She had read the wrong line on her ticket. After a frantic “fuck dude you’ll never believe what I did” conversation and some chugged coffee, we hopped in the car, played Speed Racer and Fuck the Other Driver for a bit, then a quick round of Zoom Around the Taxi, and got her to the Delta curbside drop off at 10:20. Fifteen minutes later, she was boarding, and a few minutes later called from the plane, much relieved.

Angela self-chastised the entire trip, but I assured her it was not only an understandable error, but probably a common one. She’s an inveterate traveller, and was verging on the inconsolable, but all’s well etc. Oh, and her Bahstahn accent is much more pronounced when she’s excited (“Craaaaahhp!”).

Today, a tanker truck evidently exploded on the inner loop of the Capital Beltway, promising to wrong-hole the travel plans of everyone headed anywhere near, through, or rhyming with Washington, D.C. (the truck driver escaped, apparently without injury). Good luck to everyone we know trying to get out of town for the weekend.

I have some friends and family who will be spending the holiday in places and ways they wish they weren’t. It makes me realize how much I have to be thankful for. You guys are foremost in my thoughts and in what passes for my prayers. I wish words were more useful to you all.