The Day After

The Day After

For several years, the day after the Rose Parade meant flying east to school.  My sister joined me on these trips in the late 80s and 90s.  As our relationship was of the typical “older-sister-successfully-antagonizes-little-sister” variety, the trips were both hysterical and maddening.

In addition to the company, I remember these trips because we always connected through the Midwest on our way to Boston.  This was the result of American Express’ marketing back then.  It was of the “Join us and we’ll give you cheap plane tickets” variety, and was perfect for students making the transcontinental flight a few times a year.  As we traveled to and from Los Angeles, these flights ensured that we were almost always accompanied by Big 10 football fans heading home from the Rose Bowl.

One year, I fell asleep on the plane.  When I woke up, those around me eyed me with concern.  Finally, my sister fessed up, “While you were sleeping I told them I was taking you back to the institution.”

Nice job, sis.  On the few occasions when you get me, you make it good.


One thought on “The Day After

  1. “Mental institution” is a oft-apt description of the place.

    I am glad we had the calendar change a few years ago. I no longer have to be back in Cambridge the 2nd for reading period. It’s a lot less stress this time around than the first time I was there, mostly because the calendar is much less stress-inducing.

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