“We didn’t kill each other!”
These are the first words out of The Wedding Date’s mouth when my mom picks us up at the airport on Saturday afternoon.
And he’s right.
We’ve flown to Boston and back in just over 24 hours. We’ve shared a hotel room, a suitcase, a bathroom, a bag of Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cups (which I wasn’t intending to share with anyone) and even the remote control for the television in our room.
And yet somehow, by the grace of God, we’re still on speaking terms by the time we return to Philadelphia.
Better than speaking terms, actually.
But I’ll get to that later.
I have to say, even though I booked the tickets weeks ago, and the hotel, and the rental car, it still came as a shock to me when I get the confirmation from the airline last week. There was my name, and there was his: we were flying to Boston together.
Granted, it was only Boston—not Dubai or some place exotic—and I was surprised to find myself so excited about a domestic flight but I was excited. I’ve never flown with a date before.
I’m so used to doing everything myself whenever travel: lifting my own bag into the overhead compartment, wrestling all of my suitcases into the bathroom stall so that they won’t get stolen while I’m using the facilities, attempting to elbow my way to the front of the line when the check-in folks announce that the flight’s been “overbooked” (a skill at which I’ve never been particularly good), sampling the duty free liquor and trying to formulate my own opinion on the merits of mint vs. caramel Bailey’s, and finally trying to keep track of the time so I don’t miss the last boarding call (Starbucks and Café Nero are my downfall).
But with a date, everything is so much easier.
And way more fun.
In fact, I might have to try this weekend getaway thing more often.
And so, before signing off for today I’d like to say to the man who will be reading this at his desk in an hour and a half: Thank you again for being crazy enough to agree (on our third date) to accompany me to Boston. At first, I was glad just to have a date, but now I’m glad— more than ever— that that date was you.
(The rest of you will have to wait until tomorrow to find out what exactly happened during our trip but here’s a hint: we never did make it to the Salem Witch Museum…)