This must be the place: 'Maybe the clouds will, at least, have silvery lines'
Hello from the Cantina Laredo in Terminal T of the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. It’s Sunday, 8:29 p.m. I’ve just consumed two overpriced Michelob Ultra drafts and one giant chicken quesadilla (hadn’t eaten all day). In this moment, I decided to use my layover time to write this here column for you readers (yes, you).
This must be the place: 'And I got lost where the river bends, maybe that's where I got found'
Hello from 30,054 feet somewhere above rural Missouri. The Delta flight is currently holding steady at 517 miles per hour. And here I sit once again. In motion, in real time. Onward to the next adventure.