Left to myself, I tend to stay up late -- work, write, watch all sorts of bizarrity on cable. When Mrs. Dr. Phil was in Nicaragua, I reverted to form and went to bed around 4am every night. (grin) Ah, the advantages of not having any classes to teach.
Indeed, some of the hardest teaching time for me was getting assigned an 8am class, which required a 4:55am wake-up.
So... what in the world was I doing setting a Saturday morning alarm for 3:55am? Well, Mrs. Dr. Phil had a 7am flight from GRR to San Antonio, change in Dallas. Boarding scheduled to start at 6:30, so we aimed to arrive at the Gerald R. Ford International Airport at 5:30. 40-45 minutes to get around to the opposite corner of Grand Rapids. Quick breakfast, dress, and well, you can see how we arrived at 3:55am.
On the other hand, it was a perfect day for driving. And fascinating how many people were being dropped off for all those early flights.
There was the time that I delivered Chicago Tribunes in Evanston as a relief driver, and worked from 1-6am. On the way home, I grabbed a Coke at a 24-hr McDonalds on 28th Street and while in the drive-thru line -- yes they were backed up at 5:45 on a Saturday -- I said hello and chatted with a young man folding up boxes from the McD semi being unloaded on the other side. Asked him when his shift started, 4am, but he lived 2½ miles away and had to walk in, so his wake up was 2:30am.
Oh the horror, the horror.
(Mrs. Dr. Phil just e-mailed from San Antonio -- got in, got room despite hotel snafu, lunch, nap, minor league ballgame outing tonight, conference. Yay, travel.)
Meanwhile, Prometheus 3D at the Holland 7, 4:50pm...