you should call rob
January 12, 2009
A loooong time ago, back when I lived in Minnesota, my Mom told me that my cousin Ronnie had called her from the airport. She thought that was sweet, because Ronnie lived in Lethbridge, Alberta, and had a stopover in Minneapolis. I agreed that it was sweet, but I remember being a little puzzled as to how his calling her from the airport made him sweet.
Until our Mexico trip. On the way down, we stayed with friends in Phoenix, and on the way back, stayed again, in Phoenix. On the return, while we were laying around at our friend’s house, Rick S texted me.
“You should call Rob (Rick S’s brother). He’s staying right down the street from you.”
And normally, this would make perfect sense. I really like Rob. I would enjoy talking to him, or even going to, say, Taco Bell with Rob.
On the other hand, in Utah, I actually live about 3 miles from Rob. That is, our actual houses are THREE miles apart.
So why, when we’re in Phoenix, with our respective families, staying with our respective friends, would we “call each other” and go get Taco Bell?
I mean, I ski with Rob. I bike with Rob. And sometimes, we hang out.
But suddenly, because we’re like a thousand miles from home, we should “call each other?”
People are weird, man.
Hey Rick. Call me.