Pick Me Up at the Airport, Would Ya?

In 1994 I was out of town for work having to go to Iowa. Being that it was January a blizzard jammed up my flights home and I spent two days in a hotel in Minnesota as my luggage flew home. Jeff was waiting to pick me up at the airport in Buffalo and he made two separate trips in, only to have to head back home when my flight was delayed.

Finally, on day three I was able to make it home, but the flight took over eight hours. When I got to the airport Jeff was in the bar waiting for me, sipping on a beer. "Hello, punkin'" he said. He was so full of energy that I sort of shuddered with fear about how the long ride home would go.

"Can you do me a favor and not talk?" I asked. "I have a splitting headache and I haven't slept much in three days."

I should have known better. Jeff started to sing. He continued to sing as we exited the parking ramp straight into a Buffalo blizzard. He was squinting to see out the windows as the wind was blowing and the snow was flying. He was still singing.

Finally, I screamed. "PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! STOP!"

Jeff stopped. He drove in silence for about six minutes, skidding across the road, steering into a slide that I was sure was going to send us into the other lane of traffic.

In the middle of correcting the skid, he turned to me, smiled, raised one eyebrow and said:

"Don't be shy! A little road noggin' right about now sure would be nice."

We laughed the rest of the way home.

Submitted by Cliff Fazzolari