Today: Unfashionably on time.

I pride myself on being punctual.  As the ancient Roman saying goes, Early is on time; on time is late; and late is unacceptable.  And now we must feed you to the lions.  In the Colosseum. Every once in a while, though, I get sidetracked and loose sight of that saying.  And the clock.

What not to do, five minutes before you’re supposed to leave to meet your significant other and his new co-workers for a harbor cruise:

Practice hairstyles for your brother and future sister-in-law’s wedding. Yes, I’ve mastered the inside out french braid, a style whose coolness peaked simultaneously with mine.  In seventh grade. The Zohan, I am not.  And I need to be seen in public very shortly.  Back away from the Elnett.

Attempt to Krazy Glue something (in this case a brass tack embellishment) back onto your shoe.  In fact, one should probably avoid Krazy Glue altogether.  In opening a fresh tube of the magic adhesive, I somehow got it on several finger tips, the marble counter in the bathroom, and the area between several finger tips and the marble counter in the bathroom.  I then had to single-handedly (literally, using one hand) open a bottle of nail polish remover and hope that rumor I’d heard about Sally Hansen being Krazy Glue’s kryptonite was true.  There’s been a lot of “news” lately about criminals removing their fingerprints to avoid leaving evidence behind.  The implication is that their fingerprints were mutilated on purpose.  After last night’s close encounter with Krazy Glue, I wonder if these so-call hardened criminals weren’t trying to bedazzle a pair of flats on their way to the bank… robbery.

Waffle about whether or not to bring an umbrella. There are days when the hourly forecast indicates a 30% chance of rain.  Thirty is more than ten, which may as well be zero, but it’s less than fifty, which may as well be one hundred.  You might bring an umbrella, but you might not.  And it might not matter either way.

Then there are days when the sky is actively raining buckets.  Yesterday was one of those days.  Why I wondered for a solid minute or two whether or not to bring an umbrella, is beyond me.  Why I ultimately decided not to bring the umbrella, is waaay beyond me.  I made it to the street with just enough time to hop on the T, when I faced the harsh reality that my creatively coiffed hair would be Donald Trumpified if I didn’t find someway to protect it from the monsoon.  But then I couldn’t find my dang umbrella.  By the time I realized it was in my car, the window of opportunity to travel green had long closed, and I was forced to drive to the waterfront.  In my car.

Have your car hit by someone in even more of a hurry than you. (I’m fine, my car’s fine, the guy who hit my car is fine, his car is not fine.  All is right in the world.) I had mere minutes to meet Nick at the dock before the boat cruised off, so I took the most direct route possible.  A fellow driver tried to make his route even more direct, whipping around a turning vehicle.  His passenger side widow smashed into my driver’s side window, making a noise so loud it blew some of the now rock-hard Krazy Glue right off my middle finger.  He proceeded to drive off (mind you, we’re in traffic, so he didn’t get far).

My initial thought was, if he flees the scene, I won’t have to get out of my car in the pouring rain to exchange insurance information, which would be good.  Because, you know, I don’t have any waterproof paper in my car.  The offending driver, however, pulled over at the next light, and I was able to pull up alongside him and his side-view mirror, which had been blown clear off.  He rolled down his window, so I took his lead and did the same.  After being smacked in the face by wall of rain, I gave him my best “What the f… “ hands.  And then I used the automatic side-window mover thingy to scan the length of my car (which, in hindsight, seems kind of insensitive, seeing has his mirror was dangling by a thread wire).  Not a single scratch.

I think he genuinely felt badly.  I genuinely felt shocked that my humble Ford withstood such an assault.  I could be in one of those “Buy American” ads.  My mirror brought his mirror down to Chinatown.  Literally.  We were on Atlantic Avenue.

I arrived mostly in one piece, and enjoyed a lovely cruise of Boston Harbor with Nick and his colleagues aboard the Martha Washington.  According to BHC Captain William Sanchez, “The moment you cross her gangway, it’s as if you’ve stepped back in time.”   Which is only possible, if you’re on time.

Also On Tap for Today:

• My FitBook just arrived 🙂
• Adventures in canine toothbrushing
• Movie night: Best in Show

Do you arrive on time?  Or do you find it fashionable to be a wee bit late?