It was 9 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, and I had already been up for five hours.
Paul and I had taken American Airlines' earliest flight from Columbus to LaGuardia that morning. We've done the 6 a.m. flights into New York before after visits to Ohio, and each time it hits me like a ton of bricks that vacation is over.
This time, the ton of bricks took the shape of not only very heavy eyelids, but also hot and muggy weather and an hour commute to work even after we landed at LGA. We catch the M60 bus at the airport, and then we transfer to the subway at Astoria Boulevard. It's easy but annoying.
As Paul and I waited for a Q train at Astoria Boulevard, Paul glanced across the tracks and saw a sign for Columbus Pizza. Fate? Either way, it made us want to turn around and go home.
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