Wednesdays morning began with doughtnuts. But not just any doughtnuts. Doughnuts from Bombolini.
(They don’t have a working website at this moment, apparently…so no link, sorry!)
These are little pieces of perfection. They’re not really doughnuts, they’re more like creme puffs. My Aunt brought back four of them: nutella, lemon creme, raspberry and s’mores. I very much wanted to eat all of them, but I confined myself to the first two. They were so, so delicious. And eating them overlooking a great vista of NYC? Basically perfection.
We decided to hang out at the apartment before I left at 12:45 for my flight. While my aunt worked out and showered I finished packing and then read her copy of The Devil Wears Prada, which I’d never read, even though I love the movie. The book is very funny. While traveling I also polished off Return of the Native and Italian Food (the book I bought at Eataly).
For lunch we ordered Indian food–I was glad to see that Indian food does indeed come with a ton of sauce, so I haven’t been making it wrong all these years. 🙂
After that, it was time to, sadly, leave. My aunt hailed me a cab and I headed for JFK.
Now, this cabbie has a death wish. I swear it. Now, I’m normally OK with cabbies doing their crazy thing, but this one was a LOT crazier than usual. We almost wrecked about six times, and I mean, literally, like, 2 centimeters from the bumper. Scary. And he didn’t turn on the meter. Again, weird.
So we got to JFK and then he’s trying to figure out my fare, because he didn’t turn on the meter. Sigh.
We figure it out. I pay him, and head to the curbside baggage check. The guy takes so long I think hes absconded with my ticket and my ID, but he does, eventually come back. I worry my luggage won’t make it to CMH.
I go through security and then begin the five thousand year march to the American Airlines terminal. When I get there, I am in desperate need of sugar and Gatorade, which I procure, because JFK is as hot as the fifth circle of Hell.
And at my gate, there are no. seats.
I don’t mean like the seats are taken. I mean there are no seats for “non handicapped” passengers. There are seats at all the other gates, but not this one. I’m over an hour early, so I sit at another terminal and read Beautiful Ruins until it gets closer to my time. Then I sit against a pillar.
JFK’s AA gates are very disorganized. They call us all up–not in groups, like they’re supposed to, but in a cattle call sort of thing. They’re late. We then sit forever on the runway–about 30 minutes, but apparently we make up time in the air, because we land on time.
I was so glad to be in CMH, in an airport I knew and where everyone was nice, unlike certain people at certain AA terminals in certain cities.
And with that, I was home.