As if this weekend were all strings and no theory, an expedited passport can go virtually missing with a shrug “computer’s down.” Where armed guards stand in front of a triumvirate of frames: W-Cheney-Condi. Have no overreaction. Or is it Mercury racketeering. Friday the passport turns up. Pause for food-borne illness. Embarkation for Monday back on. The flight is boarded. Then late. Then last in line on the runway. Then subject to a perilous rain. Three hours on a tarmac and finally revelry at the sound of motors. The sound of motors horribly wrong. This flight is being cancelled in Spanish due to engine malfunction. Nothing else is known. Embarkation for airport to pick up He of the Tarmac Day and another halting. Moments after his car accident the motorist is facing me southbound in 5 northbound lanes. His look of surrender before emergency crews arrive. Thinking about time and how I used to confuse coincidence with consequence in a spelling grade. My signaling past the debris. Airport. Home. Late. We are the only neighbors with windows open. We do not prefer climate control and so are the few or only to hear the first screams that I mistake for a small dog but then become Help and the mismatched sounds of high heels and speed. We call. We are witnesses. A witness rescheduled to fly today.