I raced to the NPR studio in Boston on the T. Got there and rushed to the receptionist who was chatting on the phone and couldn’t have cared less that I was there looking desperate. Eventually she gets off the phone and tells me the studio USED to be there, but now was a mile further up the road. I run out, hop on the B line and get there just before the recording was going to start. I never recovered from that, and to this day regret not stopping and asking him to start over after the first question. Instead this is what I sounded like, sweaty, desperate, unsettled and kind of ticked off at the receptionist’s typical Boston behavior. Oh wait, I have to talk about bookbinding?
