Up at 6am. Run grab a paper and a hot chocolate at Starbucks. Call Paige around 9am to make sure she's awake. She sounds like shit. She's been up hurling since (I think) around 4am. I offer to call myself a cab ("I'm a cab!"), but she says she's OK to drive. She picks me up around 9:30 to head to the airport. She looks more than a little green around the gills. She only had a couple of drinks last night – that's not the culprit. Might be a case of food poisoning, or maybe a bit of this nasty flu bug that's been going around. I thought she was gonna puke the whole way out to the airport. She's even got a plastic puke sack in her lap in anticipation. I offer to drive, but she still says she's good.
I find out when I call her later that she DID throw up after letting me out at the terminal. Puked right into the bag and kept on driving. That's killer!!! I'm damn proud of that girl…
I have a connecting flight in Cincinnati, and about an hour and a half to kill. I've always liked the Cincy airport, so I wander around and do some window shopping to kill time.
I make it to Kansas City around 3:30 and to the hotel around 4:30. We're staying 4 nights at the Radisson downtown and I gotta tell ya, downtown KC is deader than hell on the weekends. I spent about an hour walking around. It's like a freakin' graveyard. Wind up back at the hotel, eventually heading down for dinner around 7pm, where I got just what I was trying to avoid, a $55 dollar meal – Salmon and smashed taters, and the best salad I've had in months. Oh, yeah, and 3 Buds.
In the room and I was asleep by 9. Dreamed about moving into my new house. Here's what the view will be like when I'm sitting in my rocking chair on the front porch: