10 years in the 602

Today is a an anniversary of sorts. Ten years ago, we flew American Airlines on one-way tickets from West Palm Beach, Florida to Phoenix, Arizona. The night before, we locked up our house in Boynton Beach for the last time, and departed to spend the night in Tequesta, waiting for the flight.

The prior week was a frantic buzz of activity - saying good-byes to friends, family, and co-workers, getting the house packed up, and selling the car. A week before that was the first time I ever set foot in Phoenix - not for the job interview (that was in Illinois), but for a house-hunting trip. That's right, I accepted a job in a town I'd never seen before. My wife had seen it, but just from at a stopover at the airport. We figiured if we didn't like it, we'd leave in two years.

We stepped off the plane, gathered our luggage, and hailed a cab to our apartment. The furniture was slated to arrive the following day, so we spent the night sleeping on the floor of our new apartment (well, new to us anyway - I'd call it early 80's).

It was a two-bedroom apartment, but we wouldn't end up with a lot of space. It's said that everyone has a vice, and ours is books. We figured that between our furniture (very little, actually) and our books (enough to give the movers hernias), we'd end up with very little room in either of the bedrooms for the bed.