Transcontinental, 3:30 a.m. Sunday Morning

Ring, ring, ring.

Heyya.

The return was late. The concert was great.

The pick-up was thirty seconds tardy. The drive out went quickly.

The dinner plans were poorly thought-out. The fault was entirely mine.

The allotted time for dinner was one hour. The restaurant wait was forty minutes.

The opening act was The Mammals. Their music was... well, I don't know, because we arrived after they'd finished.

The Nickel Creek set was mostly familiar. The Britney cover was pretty funny.

The venue was quaint. The lights under the balcony were a little weird.

The mandolinist was crazy as usual. The guitarist looked a little too tipsy.

The encore was surprising. Fleck and Meyer were onstage.

The concert's end was at 11:30. The time zone was central.

The late leave was until 2:00 eastern. The problem is obvious.

The adjusted estimated return time was 3:00 a.m. The dean was not amused.

The return drive was languid. The sleep deprivation was affective.

The arrival was 3:15 a.m. The drop-off was businesslike.

The girl is a catch.

But not for me.