Airport Greetings

I'm typing this in the Dallas airport, sipping coffee from a fast food chain I refuse to admit to patronizing (hey, Seattle' s Best was closed) and admiring the knotty grey carpet around gate 8. Or gate A6. Whatever...this is airport 2 of 3 for the day. Good times. I enjoyed a lovely weekend home in New Mexico and now it's back to work with 4 gigs this week. When will I find time to unpack? Probably never. That's ok. I've always loved flying, even with all the hassle of boarding and middle seats and the decision of whether to ask for that cup of airplane coffee knowing full well it will result in a trip to either a nasty lavatory or a nasty airport bathroom. (Sorry, but it's true). Something about sitting in a hunk of metal with 130 other strangers all with the same purpose -- hurtling themselves toward somewhere else -- is nice. Give me the choice, however, and I will drive. Give me a week and I'll get to your house in a car with lots of gas station food wrappers in the back seat and a road map on the passenger's side floor. Yes, I could get there in 6 hours on a plane, but someone else does the driving for Delta. Too much is missed that way, even if the coffee is good.