6 December 2011
Emergency situations have a way of changing plans. And on this particular Tuesday, my friend Angie was facing what I would certainly call an emergency situation. We spent the morning trying to address it. It was a very obvious team effort, with Angie working her contacts, making calls and developing plans while I captioned photos and began documenting my flight. Once satisfied with our mutual progress, we got down to the business of actually leaving the house. Ang got in the shower. And in walks The Squash Player.
This thing the Kiwis do with the knocking and the walking in is definitely an acquired taste. I heard the knock and froze -- because obviously the person on the other side of the door would know if I were typing. Once the door open I (mentally) sprang into action, thinking of how I was about to fight off a home invasion and protect my sudsy friend all by myself. It took you longer to read that than it took me to think it. And by the time I heard The Squash Player's voice and saw him, I was relaxed enough to say exactly what was on my mind to say.
"Oh you are ridiculous."
The Squash Player had put forth his own effort in response to the emergency situation. He had come during his lunch break to deliver flowers. It was so saccharine, I got a cavity. Unfortunately, someone's timing was wrong - though it's not clear whose.
"Who showers at midday?"
TSP & I chatted, but he had to, you know, drive to work. As the door closed and I started to giggle to myself, Miss Ang strolls out of the shower. My giggles became guffaws. I told her she could probably still catch TSP if she were to run outside in her towel. She did not.
Now I'm not at liberty to say who photographed the flowers. But they were photographed, by a photographer type person. They really were quite pretty. We dawdled and probably ate something, though there are no pictures, so it must not have been delicious. Finally, we went to the beach.
|From the side of the road.|
|Well the sand looks black there.|
|Watching his person.|
|There she is.|
|No story here. I'm simply telling you I was here.|
We walked up the beach. We walked down the beach. And still, the sun did not set. The Squash Player went home, and we two sat. The sunset was approaching. But you know what came before that? Clouds. Happy little clouds rolled in and did not roll out. I suppose the sun sets when you can no longer see it, be that because of the horizon or cloud cover. I found the whole thing anticlimactic. However my friend seemed uncharacteristically accepting of the ruination of her plan. I suspect that to be Squash Player related. But what do I know?
|Right when we left.|
That night we continued relaxation with take away from the "International" Food Court. That's right, I'm questioning its legitimacy. Technically yes, food from a slew of Asian countries does make it "international," but I think that's disingenuous. Whatever. The noodles were delicious. I was just to hungry to take a picture.