While guys got into their card game, PT and myself sat and chatted.I found we had many things in common, plus he wasn’t bored just sitting there.He loved hotted up cars and motorsport, could stop talking about car.I was starting to get bored and thought about making tracks for home.PT must felt the vibes of my boredom and got up to take a leak.Now I was thinking of driving to a late-night diner and getting some coffee into me.In the meantime I walked outside the back to get some fresh air and to clear my head.The smoke filled house was getting stuffy.Not long after the Big Griff came out and lit up a smoke.“Fuck it’s good to see you man,” He said, with his Bronx-Italian accent.“Yeah me too, been a while since I been to the old hood,” I followed.“Oh man, try this latest shit I got my hands on,” He said.I looked at him pull out a small plastic bottle.“What the fuck, ah nah not into pills,” I tried to tell him.“Go on, it’s the good stuff,” He shook the bottle, sounded like it was almost. I fed the fish for the entire week! Now it looked like it should be good.When the shuttle came back, we loaded up and headed over to the airport, about a five-minute ride. Everything went smoothly, much smoother than it would become after 9-11. I had my passport, in red like most military people, but Marilyn only had her driver’s license. She did pack our wedding license in her handbag since her license still said Lefleur. That was a project for when we got back. We got to the Eastern counter, and before we handed over our luggage, tied onto the handles the special luggage tags for the cruise ship. Once we landed at JFK, our luggage would be sent to the ship. We wouldn’t need to pick it up at baggage claim.It wouldn’t be much different for us. There would be shuttle buses at the airport for arriving passengers to be driven to the dock. That was a good thing, because I hate driving in New York City, and Marilyn simply refused to even consider it. She’s just not much of a city girl..
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