It has happened to me three times in almost thirty years of suburban closings. Each occurrence was unexpected, yet all ended delightfully. The utterly agreeable situation I’m referring to is walking into a closing and being informed that the lender’s attorney has a train to catch and cannot be late.
Checks are ready and waiting, copies are made before the ink dries on the originals, and the proceedings move efficiently along. The
drill sergeant closing attorney never wastes a second: he’s handing out money an instant after the last document is signed and then he’s packing his bag before the keys have passed from sellers to buyers.
He can usually be heard wishing the parties “good luck” as he dashes out the door, but he never lingers long enough for me to express my gratitude for his train travel.