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Sunday, October 29th, 2006

Freaky Day

The plane pulled into the gate. I turned on my phone, which has auto update on the time, partly out of habit and partly to make sure I had got the change on time zones right on top of the passing of daylight savings. I nervously scanned the faces as I walked into Lindbergh Field out of pure paranoia. This was my first time back in San Diego since I left.

I was almost to the men’s room when the phone beeped. Voice message. John had called, and the message just said to call him as soon as I landed; it was important. John doesn’t exaggerate. I feared the worst. I called him back right away.

“Guess who just called me from a payphone in Kansas City?” he said.



Son-of-a-bitch. We discussed the possibility of whether she knew how to fake caller IDs. I can do it, which means I know how difficult it is. I didn’t think she could do the same, but then, she might have found traces on the home computer. Still, the odds worked out that she actually was in Missouri.

John admitted that he had lost his cool. “Remember the worst chewing out I ever gave you?”

I cringed. “Yeah.”

“Well, I topped that talking to her. Sorry. That hasn’t happened in along time. As soon as I realized that I had lost it, I hung up on her.”

Well, that was probably for the better. If the two of them really got going over the phone, it would probably lead to either bleeding from the ears for both parties, or a cascading shutdown of phone systems on half the continent.

So she traced me to Missouri. That’s not good, but thank the gods for double and triple cutouts. The irony is that at that very minute, I was back in San Diego, at least for an hour or two. And everybody was worried that I would break down and go drive by the place, just to see how things were, and end up sucked back into the morass. I briefly considered stopping by to pick up some things, and maybe hook the computer and phone system back up, but I realized that seeing the kids would probably lead to a breakdown. “That’s not fair to them,” said Mum, “You can’t just stop in and leave again.” She was right. Besides, I still didn’t know if it was a trick. I stuck to the plan.

Almost a hundred klicks later, I got an update. “She’s definitely here,” said John. “I’m going to go meet her at her hotel. Who do you know who drives a white Honda Civic? There’s one here in the parking lot with California plates.” Nada. Who knows? Juan could run the plates for me, but what difference does it make?

I don’t know how that conversation at the hotel played out exactly, but I hope she was convinced of the truth. I wasn’t in Kansas City. Yeah, I was in San Diego today briefly, but I’m not anymore. Not even in California.

This must change things on how I figure the situation. I haven’t had time to consider all the implications, but I always figured that if it came to it, I would just throw a dart at a map of the world and go wherever Chance dictated. I have a passport, and I figure you can get by any place in the world today speaking English until I could pick up the local lingo.

So much for a freaky day. Tomorrow I’m on the road again, moving on. Call it tactical maneuvering.

Posted by Greg in Family & Friends, Posts About Me

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