It was an unseasonably warm 50-degree evening, and after some chitchatting in his place and a beer at the bar up the street, VJ and I went out to dinner at this swank restaurant, and met up with another old HS friend afterwards.
I woke up Tuesday morning to doom-and-gloom weather reports of a snowstorm dumping 6 inches on the city, but never to fear, that it would start well into the afternoon/evening. By 10am, the scene out the window looked like a broken television, and by noon they had cancelled my flight home (which was a blessing in disguise, as on the way up, I found out why the American Airlines shuttle is $100 cheaper than the rest: the plane was only about 10 feet wide, and the pilot seemed to think he couldn't execute a turn without tilting the plane on a 90deg. angle). Work scrambled to booked me on the train home, which while longer, wasn't as late as I thought it would be, and it was actually kind of neat to ride through those industrial zones while it was snowing. I was hoping to get snowed in for another night: it would have been much more enjoyable to know that I didn't have anywhere I *had* to be in the storm, and just hang out for the night and come home the next day. Considering how work had to eat my return flight and buy me a train ticket home, it probably would have cost the same, but oh well. I think they thought I really wanted to be home on Tuesday night. But my hotel was adorable, and I managed to score bagels, black and white cookies, and a slice of broccoli pizza, so it wasn't a total wash. And now that I'm not walking like .2 miles per hour in a freak wet snowstorm with no vacant cabs around, it was kind of exciting.