Dadber (Betsy Version)

 Years ago, I politely gave up driving people to, or picking them up from, the airport, on account of I never ask anyone to do it for me and it's just easier to use Uber. The exception is those who share my DNA in some way.

Last night, D2 and Jonathan returned from Europe, and we've been dogsitting 95 lb Betsy. They live on South Beach, and told me not to bother, but I was, atypically for me, very awake and energized at 9 pm.

Saturday night, we returned from a great dinner at The Palm, and I went to sleep, waking at 230 with my mind refusing to shut down. I popped a xanax, which almost always works, but at 330 I was still wide awake, dealing with the minutia of my life. So I took another half, and it did the trick. Boy -- did it! I slept until 1130 am, a feat I don't think I accomplished since I was in my 20s!

And then, since it was hot as hell outside and I saw no good reason to leave the house, I napped from 3-430 as "Mayday -- Air Disaster" played on TV. For reasons probably related to my strangeness, it's my favorite show to fall asleep to -- maybe it's the slow, ominous music they play as the FAA investigators find the bad screw that caused the heavy jet to fall...

Anyway, I was alert and energized as I tracked in the TAP plane to MIA, and I texted the young-uns that I was coming to fetch them, and return their bear-like dog. TAP docks at a sleepy part of MIA, if there is such a thing, and they flew through Customs and got their bags in record time. Betsy and I didn't even have time to park at Latin Cafe, my waiting area, when D2 called that they were ready for pickup.

I really like driving in Miami when there's no traffic, which is just about never. As I made my way up the Palmetto, old friend "Uncle" Lou called from Philly -- Paul told him we booked a trip there in late September. The Canes play at Temple, not much of a game, but Paul's birthday is then, and my nephew of another brother Scott and his lady (I think maybe now fiancee but I await official word on that) plan to attend. So Paul and I decided to host a cocktail party in Central City, and make it a lovely weekend. Lou is very happy, though he declined my offer to attend the game -- he's no longer able to navigate stadium steps.

Anyway, I fetched the curbside millennials, and heard all about their trip. They loved it, of course -- Italy and Spain. The only subpar portion was the trip home on TAP -- an old plane with no WiFi -- a contrast to the better service AA gave on the way there. But that's ok.

I dropped them off on Miami Beach, and Betsy was in no way happy about exiting the SUV. She prefers Pinecrest, with our big yard she has access to all the time since she learned how to open the doors. But she was back with her parents -- and will be returning in a few weeks anyway. When Wifey goes off to the anti-semitic wedding, D2 is coming to stay for a few days while her man is in Arizona for a bachelor weekend -- hopefully one of the last ones for his cohort. They've gotten old, as all these events do when you've attended scores of them.

I received 5 Stars from my passengers, so DadBer keeps on trucking. My other unpaid job, distributing D1's frozen milk, which I call Leche Dave, is on hold -- D1 needs to follow up with her latest customer and arrange a visit. Our garage freezer is literally bursting at the door with this product.

Today we're meeting Joelle and Kenny to see "Oppenheimer" in South Miami -- the theater where Tom Cruise showed up a few weeks back to thank fans of his latest "Mission Impossible." Maybe a physicist or two will make an appearance today. We can only wish...