Winding down the travel clock
A final rest day, in the big city. Even the dog senses that travel time starts at sunrise. We stayed inside, again; several short tours around the trees in the parking area followed by long periods of, well, rest.
Finally, in the evening, after a volley of text messages, we headed off to pick up son #2 and company and then joined #1 and company and #3 at a restaurant in one of the larger shopping malls. Underground heated parking.
Getting inside was a challenge. Malls lock up everything except designated doors and put a guard in a golf cart to maintain the peace and quiet required by mannequins.
Supper? Fancy burgers; the lists of condiments are definitely inspired by a chef. No mustard, relish and ketchup in squeeze bottles here. There was classic rock on the sound system and classic hockey on the screen. Oh, and classic games in strategic locations. Foozball. A Space Invaders console that mutated into Donkey Kong when I pushed the wrong button. Never found the right one.
Someone from the restaurant staff captured the moment on one of the smartphones, as proof of our passing. And then we bid farewell, oneto another until the next visit. So ends the holiday.
All that remains is packing (repacking) the car tomorrow morning, and then a full day of highway madness. Ahead of the storm, we hope. Yes, I’m glad I came; yes, I’ll be glad to get home. Too old for all this fun. I need to check the mail. And the house. And my preferred websites.
