change of plans

I was supposed to have spent the weekend visiting with old college friends. Instead, one of them found himself on the losing end of a battle with a bee and spent the night in a Pittsburgh hospital. Everyone is fine now, but the plane went to Boston without them. So I was suddenly free to spend the night sleeping in a car on the south shore of Boston.

If we'd had a tent, one might have called it camping. But there was no tent. There was, however, a campfire. There were weenies and brats, smores and mosquitoes, lanterns and headlamps. It smelled and looked like camping. But me and my mummy bag tucked in for the night in the back of the Bismark--a sweet Mercedes wagon with leather and a sunroof. It was more like a night of upscale homelessess than camping. But for a weekend when nothing went as planned, it was pretty good.