The forest and the mansion

I left my bike at a colleague's place from where the buyer will pick it up. I had to ride down in ice for about 5 miles and I wouldn't really recommend it to anyone who isn't looking for a cheap thrill. I wouldn't like to repeat it myself. For the last bit of the journey a few meters from the apartment, I had to get off and walk, or I would surely have fallen. Had a simple but delicious lunch at his place, perhaps my third or fourth time in the trip when I have had Indian food. He and his wife are setting up a small, but very lit and cozy apartment.

The last farewells done, things packed in, I set out. My cab driver, couldn't keep his commitment and tried booking me another cab who failed to make it on time as well. I had to book a third one in the last minute who dropped me at the halfway point at a train station because of the severe traffic on the way to the airport. I tugged my luggage along in the ice, boarded the train, ran to the counter at the airport barely half an hour before the flight was scheduled for departure. Had to shuffle things around so that my checked in bag didn't exceed the weight limit. Then ran into long queues at the security check and had to sprint again to be among the last few to board the flight before it took off. There was almost no place remaining for my luggage!

My uncle and aunt picked me up from JFK and we rode all the way to their place in Long Island. All we had time for was a few jokes before hitting the bed.

Despite the troubles and barely making it to the flight on time, not once did it occur to me to feel angry with the cab driver. He was always timely, polite and on our previous journeys and I had found him an engaging conversationalist. I intuitively felt he was sincere and gave him the benefit of the doubt. I am more intuitive than rational, have always been, knowing fully well I may be wrong. But when it comes to people, I make decisions based on my gut. But once someone gets in my bad books (mostly happens after repeated acts of insincerity), they remain there. Well, bad books isn't accurate really. What I feel is indifference. When my poor memory erases the facts, it is the indifference that remains.