Recently, need dictated that I uproot from my beach chair here at the sea, to make a day trip to Chicago. Yes, that’s right: 1,584.6 miles in one day.
Faced with a dizzying array of excellent lunch options within a 90-minute window of time, I wasted no time securing an infamous local staple: The Vienna Beef Hot Dog. Righteously done, that is:
And, for the record:
This gem was consumed al fresco at the departure drop-off breezeway, where the combination of culinary bliss and harried-traveler-antics led to the inspiration for an upcoming blog topic, “There Are Actually More Than 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover, and Most of Them Aren’t Very Funny Except From the Perspective of the Anonymous Onlooker Eating a Hot Dog.”
Okay, so I’ll have to polish that title a bit before my next post.
Airports are terribly amusing places, although I admit in that one day I got my fill of tangling with Atlanta’s airport, enough to last me another year or so. The only fun thing about Atlanta was being in the middle of a phone call that got dropped and watching everyone around me shake and curse their phones, as we realized interference caused us all to lose connection simultaneously. Then we were all forced to stare at Super Nanny on CNN, preaching to us about the naughty chair. Come to think of it, most seats on most airplanes are like naughty chairs…
Back at the sea, at last…yuppers, just in time for hurricane season.