Why is it when you're running early, efforts at killing time -- like little side trips or stopping for a cup of coffee -- don't seem to help much? But, when you're cutting it a little close, the minutes whiz by?
With a 12:30 lunch appointment at York Place today I allowed 2.5 hours for the trip from home to York. It never takes that long.
But, today. I don't know what happened. By the time I maneuvered my way through the I-20/I-77 transition on the far side of Columbia a low-level unease had begun creeping up the back of my neck. And, when -- finally -- I left the interstate at Exit 73 (SC901), the 15 minute or so and 20 mile or so combination I faced, plus two lane traffic, stop lights and road construction, made my stomach hurt.
The minutes went faster than the miles. With every curve in the road and every new vista in front of me I chewed on my mantra: York has to be here somewhere; York has to be here somewhere; York has to be here somewhere.
At the stroke of 12:30 I was still two miles out. My cell phone rang. "Where are you?" I was so glad to be able to say I had just made the left onto North Congress (SC49), suggesting that the folks gather up their stuff and head toward the parking lot. Watch the drive. I'd be there any minute.
My arrival was actually met with applause. And, lunch was great.