Sunshine state of mind

On the way to Orlando International Airport, in the back of Angie's Jeep Cherokee, Patti said, "You'll have to come visit us again."

Missy, also in the backseat, she said, "Better yet, stay here longer. Who visits for just two days anyway? You're going to miss Halloween Horror Nights with us."

Next to Missy was Kristy, who said, "Call your airline and cancel your flight!"

And Patti chirped, "Do it! Do it!"

Missy added, "Fly out tomorrow instead, Pete. Stay an extra day."

And Patti chirped, "Do it! Do it!"

And Kristy said, "Just call in sick tomorrow at work."

Patti: "Do it! Do it!"

I just laughed and politely shook my head no. Then I looked out the window and sighed.

The girls didn't know it, but I was still despondent after losing in mini-golf earlier that afternoon. All weekend I had bragged about being arguably the greatest mini-golfer of our generation, about having beaten people left-handed, about how no windmill could ever block my puts. But somehow Missy ended up beating me by one stroke, cementing herself as the undisputed 2006 World Mini-golf Champion of the World. It really, really bugged me that I lost. After our game was over, Kristy raised her hand in the air and said to me, "Yay, Pete! Second place." I weakly high-fived her the same way I've always weakly high-fived people in my lifetime of sore-losing ways and softly muttered, "Yeah. Second. That's great."

I was thinking about how I should have extended my arm more on my put on the 6th hole when I saw that the exit sign for Orlando International Airport read: 2 miles.

"It's Delta, right Pete?" Angie asked me, wanting to know where to drop me off.

And that's when I found another reason to be sad.

I wasn't prepared to leave yet, just as the girls earlier weren't prepared to see me go, asking me to stay longer, jokingly or otherwise.

It was a great weekend with a great bunch of girls, the girls of the House of E -- a name they gave themselves since all of their names end in an "e" sound: Angie, Missy, Jackie, Patti, Kristy. And I was going home and I wasn't prepared.

So I thought about the entire weekend.

I thought about how Angie called me on Friday night, 15 minutes after I had landed, to tell me that she wasn't picking me up. That her car overheated. That Jackie would be driving me home instead. I thought about how, regardless of the fact that she was a stranger, from the moment I got into her car to the moment I walked into the House of E, talking to Jackie was like talking to an old friend.

I thought about how Angie asked if it was an awkward car ride with Jackie, and I replied, "Not at all. Why would it be?"

I thought about how at a bar in downtown Orlando, Patti complained profusely for the last two hours of the night about not being able to find a guy to make out with. I thought that was strange. I thought that any up-and-coming actress with cleavage like hers should have no problem at all. I thought about how the guy she was planning to make out with, a friend of hers who met up with us, turned out to be gay and tried hitting on me instead.

I thought about how Missy couldn't stop walking around me in her towel all weekend.

I thought about how stunning Melanie looked in her wedding dress on Saturday. Melanie, unrelated to the House of E, she was the real reason I flew out to Florida. We used to always talk about being at each other's wedding, back when we were 14 or 15 years old, and now ten years later it was actually happening. I thought about how she gasped when she began walking down the aisle with her dad, overwhelmed by everything. Everyone in their pews gasped as well.

I thought about how, swarmed by dozens of people poking her for attention, Melanie went out of her way to spend a little time with me at her reception. How she remembered that I had asked her to save me a dance.

I thought about Angie a lot. I thought about how the previous night, I gave Angie -- my wedding date -- the option of skipping the ceremony and just going to the reception. To which Angie responded by looking at me funny and saying that of course she wanted to go, that she'd be pissed if we didn't go. I thought about how I was deeply grateful for her willingness hang out with strangers all day, how she didn't think any of it was a waste of her time.

I thought about how Angie and I talked for hours upon hours all weekend, so much that I worried that she might be getting sick of me. So on Saturday morning, while she showered, I checked her AIM away message from Missy's computer to gauge her morale. It read, "Fun times :)."

For a Halloweenish, Friday-the-13th prank, I thought about putting a knife to Angie's throat while she slept. Or covering her face with a plastic grocery bag, and laughing while she screamed. Just for kicks. But then I thought against it.

I thought about how their cat, Kahlua, kept ignoring me. I thought about how it was probably because I erroneously kept calling it "Jambalaya".

I thought about how by Sunday morning I was a little concerned that me and Kristy wouldn't really get a chance to bond.

I thought about how Missy gave me a big hug and told me that when they were cutting hours at work that day, she volunteered to go home just to get a chance to see me. I thought about how I'd like her more if she had just lost in mini-golf that afternoon.

When we finally made it to the airport, the girls all took turns giving me hugs. After all of the reflecting I had done about the trip during the last 2 miles of the ride, I'd decided that I was as ready as I'd ever be, to go home.

As I walked towards the automatic sliding doors, into the airport, I turned around once more to have a last look at all of the girls, hoping to see them waving goodbye to me. Because of the glare of the car windows, I couldn't really see any of their faces, except for Angie's. And hers was looking straight ahead, towards the road.

The Jeep Cherokee then left, out of sight.

Two steps into the airport, I realized that I'd left my track jacket inside the car. I thought about calling Angie and telling her to turn around and come back to the departures area to give me the jacket, but then I thought: I don't want to say goodbye to them a second time.