I spent Monday working (this is my fourth of five weeks working for the TV company back in London) and generally getting depressed about the credit crunch.
Then I got to hang with Maxy on Tuesday morning, as he had to go in late to cover the second presidential debate and of course yesterday, he went to Maine.
Things were still very up in the air as to exactly where in Maine he was going to go when he boarded his plane, then when he arrived in Maine, he got a message saying he could interview George Mitchell - the democratic former Senate majority leader (and former chairman of Disney. Fact.), so headed up to the Obama HQ in Bangor, from Portland where he flew into.
Max called to ask me to get him a hotel in Bangor and mentioned that he was just going to get a taxi all the way up to Bangor. I sensed that he was doing this basically to spite his boss for not letting me drive Max around and knew it'd cost hundreds of dollars to get a taxi for a 3 hour journey, so found a bus that went from Portland to Bangor instead.
Then I had to find the Obama HQ in Bangor and book a hotel as nearby as possible, which all went very well.
I took ridiculous pleasure in being Max's Ground Control, really pleased that I was able to do something well and efficiently and give Max all the info he needed. I've been finding my TV development work quite tough lately and do quite wish I could have a really mechanical job like that - you know you've done a good job when a hotel is booked and a nifty transport plan is hatched, rather than the really subjective and unpredictable nature of writing a proposal well, or having a good idea. I like things a bit more cleancut than that. I think that's why my favourite ever job was waitressing and bartending - it's very clear when you've done a good job.
Anyway, with Max safely stowed on a bus to Bangor and a hotel room waiting for him, I carried on with my work, but then when Max got to Bangor, had to play Kenneth Kendal to Max's Anneka Rice, as he had to find a gun shop to go interview someone at after his meeting with the Democrat man.
So I rocked googlemaps, emailing Maxy exact directions to what sounded like a very Palin-y gunshop. Unfortunately it turned out that googlemaps was woefully wrong and Max called me from what looked on googlemaps like a road of shops, but was in fact a deserted lane that went on forever, with only trees and signs about moose on it.
Eventually Max was able to get a cab and found another gunshop - the one I was sending him to apparently didn't exist.
I then had to spend hours online and on the phone to the tourist information centre, trying to find a way on public transport that Max could get to another part of Maine today, then down to Portland in time for his flight. Again, Max was planning to get a taxi, but as Defender of the Licence Fee Payers, I was determined to find a better way. Turns out Maine is probably the state least well-served by public transport in the whole country.
Once again, googlemaps let me down this morning, when I tried to direct Max to another gunshop, but little did I know that that was far from the only disaster that would befall us today...
Because Max was due to get into Baltimore airport at 9pm tonight, then we're due to fly out of the same airport at 7.30am tomorrow morning, I decided to kick off our anniversary weekend with a surprise: I'd meet Max at the airport tonight and whisk him off to a fancy hotel in Baltimore for the night, then we wouldn't have to get up so early to get to the airport tomorrow and he wouldn't be exhausted from all the heinous travelling.
It was the perfect plan. Anne even offered to drive me to the airport, pick Max up and take us to the hotel. Sweet! And Joe - Jean's boyfriend - recommended a really nice-looking hotel, which was reeeeally expensive, but looked worth it.
So Anne collected our suitcase this morning and drove off to college, where I have to meet her later and then we'll drive to the airport together.
I had a blissful day off work today so I had a fun webcam chat with my friend Kat, before getting ready for the big weekend. While I was chatting to Kat, not only did Alison and Patrick call from their office for 'Ask The Brit' (a weekly event where Alison puts her phone on speakerphone and her, Patrick and a couple of colleagues quiz me about all things British. Last week, it was what do we call English muffins, this week it was about whether anyone is allowed to own a swan. Fortunately Kat knew what I didn't, that the Queen owns all swans), but Max also called, saying that his flight from Portland had been delayed for hours, but that he had managed to get himself onto a flight that not only left earlier, but gets into DC direct, rather than Baltimore! He arrives during my hairdresser's appointment and shortly before my manicure and legwax!
My plans are going to have to dramatically change...
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