a food critic i met in orlando two years ago was headed back to florida after a week in the city just as joe and i made our way out to texas late this afternoon; he and his wife did their damndest to meet us for a drink before our respective departures until we realized we were not actually at the same airport. does one get credit for weathering the la guardia / JFK switcheroo if one doesn't actually miss one's flight? our flight is running at least two hours late and is so packed with inconsolable babies that those of us who aren't responsible for said babies actually laughed with something like delight when their cries of rage nearly harmonized.
i revisited the ob/gyn who talked me into an IUD instead of sterilization nearly a decade ago. her office told me they keep records for three years and box them up after five or so. i was a new patient again, essentially, and had to explain that we'd met before. this time she pushed vasectomy, as it's reversible; when men turn 40, she said, they go crazy for babies. she took my blood pressure—high, for the first time in my life—and noted that i should consider exercising to bring it down. i'd considered bringing my magazine essay about sterilizing childless women with me to our appointment, but concluded at the last minute that showing her an article which opened with a story about how terrible she herself was would compromise our working relationship. i stuffed her referrals in my bag and left.
