How to Get in a Car Accident

Friday evening, I headed out of work to Logan Airport in Boston to pick up my close friends from college, K and M. Coming from two different cities, they planned their flight perfectly to land in Boston within 15 minutes of each other. I don't really drive around Boston much (see other posts describing my hatred of the self-identified Massholes), so I really have to pay attention and utilize the GPS at all costs. My director had told me about the Cell Phone Lot at Logan Airport and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to use it.

Logan's Cell Phone Lot is such a great idea. It might be the one smart thing anyone from the former MassPort (now MassDOT--new name, same idiots) ever thought of. About a quarter mile from the terminal, they have an open (read: free) lot where you can sit and wait for your friends and loved ones to call and tell you they are at the terminal, waiting for you to pick them up. No circling the airport necessary and no getting arrested for idling outside JetBlue (no this never happened to me; but I could see it being a possibility).

So I'm waiting in the lot, it's a nice evening, the windows are down a bit and I'm reading my book. Suddenly, a woman is standing outside my driver door, talking to me.

Cell Phone Lot Lady: I'm sorry, but my phone just died. Does your phone have unlimited local calls? Can I use your phone to call my house and see if my daughter called there?

I was a little surprised at the sudden conversation, but sympathetic to the need, so I handed her my phone, helped her dial and listened awkwardly to her try to get her husband to shut up and just answer the question of her daughter making contact. She finally told him she'd just keep going back to the terminal to scour for her, mentioning Terminal C (hey, that's where my friends will be).

She thanked me profusely and handed me back the phone. When she did, I noticed that I'd received a text message from K, telling me she and M would be at Terminal C. I replied, started the car, and left the lot.

Again, allow me to reiterate that I do not drive in Boston.

I noticed that Cell Phone Lot Lady was pulling out as well, so when I got to the road and couldn't figure out which lane to be in, I decided to use my resources. She said she was going to C and I was going to follow her (I'm smart and resourceful, not a stalker). Sure enough, she pulls into Terminal C, and lo and behold, there are my friends. Unfortunately, there is not a spot for me to pull in and park. Cell Phone Lot Lady pulled in behind another car and left a significant gap (right where my friends were standing) but not enough for me to pull in and park. So I double parked and quickly jumped out (my keys in hand--I would not lock them in again). We hugged quickly and said hello, then I popped the trunk and loaded their suitcases.

As we're getting in the car, Cell Phone Lot Lady calls over: Thanks again. I found her!

Me: Oh, good. I'll hurry up and get out of your way now! (seeing as how she really couldn't move her vehicle)

So I start the car, excitedly great my friends, remember that I'm still driving in Boston and need to tell the GPS where I want to go and still drive away from the terminal. Apparently I'm multi-talented because this is not the situation by which I almost wrecked my car. That happened during the following exchange.

K (sitting in the back seat, directly behind me): So C, do I look fatter? (K is teeny-tiny and often complains of her "fatness" so on the surface this question is not bizarre.)

Me (immediately thinking "She's pregnant. No, that's not it. We're always complaining about how we're 30 and everyone is asking us when we're going to get pregnant. And looking in the rearview mirror--not the road--at her): Should you look fatter, K?

K: Maybe.

Me(with more insistence): Should you look fatter, K?

K: Maybe a little in my tummy.

Me (I'm pretty sure the click in my mind was audible when I made the connection): SQUEE!!!!!! Oh my God! Yea! You're gonna have a baby!!! (Oh, and the looking at the road thing it still intermittent.)

M (from the front passenger seat): Yeah. Me too.

Me (and here is where I'm consciously trying to stay on the bridge, but pretty sure I changed lanes, swerved and generally pissed off other drivers): SQUEE!!! That's so exciting.

So conversation regarding the whens and whats (not the hows; I know the hows) ensued. So they are due 4 days apart and tribute the babies to the snow storms in February (K lives in North Carolina, M in Maryland). It's all very exciting and it gave us yet another reason to celebrate over the weekend (although I did have more alcohol in the trunk than we needed as a result of being down two drinking buddies). And it was very cool to wish them a Happy Mother's Day on Sunday.

Both M and K are entering in their second trimester. K's bump is a little more pronounced than M's, but of course for posterity, we needed to commemorate the bumpage.


We'll get another look next month when we get together for L's wedding. I'm hoping for more cute baby bellies! (By the way, the moral of the story is: when your friends are going to tell you they are pregnant, stay double parked and piss off the other drivers waiting to pull out of the airport before getting back in your car.)