Exits that are marked retrospectively are BAD, mkay?
Being on time for airplane flights, however, is good.
V made it to the airport all right, no thanks to my slightly questionable exit-spotting skills, and very much thanks to her own being on the ball. She'd had to go back to pack up stuff she'd meant to bring but forgot to pack, you see, cutting into her comfortable cushion of spare time.
The UPS guy knocks fucking loudly. He'd thought that he recognized the name.
I'm still able to sign my name when my hands are shaking because of the adrenalin rush from being woken by pounding on the door.
My experience in driving Sis to work while her car was under repair in November has me functional on the freeways headed home from the general direction of the airport.
Someone needs to decide on a showtime for that movie that we're seeing that's got Mr. "I act better when I have a bow & arrow, honest" in it and let me know...