London Calling

War of the roses

This weekend was wonderful.  We had no plans and just enjoyed ourselves.  Grandpa visited Saturday afternoon and joined us for lunch at a BBQ place in downtown L-ville.  On the walk home, London asked if he and I could hang back and play in the park.  The day was beautiful and the rose garden looked lovely. 

London wanted to play "catch" which meant that I needed to catch him.  (I guess "chase" would be a better name.)  He's inherited my lack of grace -- poor kid.  He was laughing and we were running through the garden path and he just fell over, right into a rose bush.

The funny part was that he made me carry him home because he had a boo-boo on his knee.  It was nothing, but if he saw his face, I knew that he'd be scared.  We made it home and he didn't realize that his face was scratched until much, much later.  Phew.

Taxi Tom

I almost titled this, "a love affair rekindled," but I didn't want to give Blue a giant heart attack this morning.  I'm waiting for a 6:58 a.m. flight and I realized that I had been walking through the terminal with a big grin on my face.  I woke up at 2 to give Violet a bottle and woke for the day at 4:15, but I still had a big fat grin.  Why, you ask?  I experienced something that I really miss -- and I didn't realize how much I missed it until it happened.  It was extraordinary customer service.

On Tuesday night, I called the Chicago taxi dispatch that I always use.  The service is dependable, but the drivers vary.  Some drive terribly slow and others act like 294 is the autobahn.  I've prayed for safety in about 50% of my taxi rides to/from the airport because I really thought that I might not make it home.  (We really need to write that will.)  Most taxis don't smell very nice either.

So on Tuesday, when the taxi driver called to tell me that he was running five minutes late, I thought that he was probably really far out and had a bad feeling that I'd be sitting for a while.  To my surprise, he arrived in exactly five minutes.  And, not only was the taxi very clean, he had a bottle of water, chocolate and today's paper waiting for me.  He drove safely but fast.  I felt like I was in a limo.

When he dropped me off, he offered me his card.  This happens a lot with drivers and I've never called one directly to schedule a ride.  But this guy had made an impression and I wasn't about to let him go.  So this morning, he picked me up promptly at 5:15 with water, the day's paper and a hot coffee.  He asked if he could pick me up tonight when my flight got in and I had to say, "Tom, you had me with the coffee.  See you at 7:20."

In most businesses, I'd share Taxi Tom's info with all of my friends and colleagues.  But this is no restaurant or salon.  A great taxi driver is like a great babysitter:  no sharing.  Because if we spread good word of mouth, they may not be available for us.  And, like a good babysitter, I tipped a few extra bucks to make sure that Tom remembers me. 

Thank you Taxi Tom.  You can give me a ride any day. 

Oh. So you're not supposed to do that?

I feel like I use those words a lot as a parent.  Oh, you're not supposed to let them eat chocolate every day?  Oh, you're not supposed to let them use a binky until they're 3?  Oh, you're not supposed to pick them up every time they cry? 

The latest addition to the list is:  Oh, you're not supposed to sneak away without telling them that you're going on a business trip, even if it avoids a big melt down at the time?  Oh, it makes things worse for the  kids?  No wonder he's a little nutty.  I travel just about every week.  This week I have three trips booked.  I usually leave before everyone is awake and often come home after they're asleep.  No wonder London greets me jumping and screaming when I get home early. 

New plan -- let them know the night before.  Let's see how it works.

Just a thought starter, but why does it seem like dads don't get the same reaction from their kids when they travel?