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Sunday August 27, 2000 "The part that's beginning to depress me is seeing all the hope people invest in those objects." Larry McMurtry's Jack in Cadillac Jack
pondering the bordello room in the pot roast restaurant
Meta: I'm out of sync with time...in more ways than one. I'm out of tense and tense about it. |
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flights of heck Our hosts take us to breakfast at a place called Yankee Pot Roast. We know to eat heartily. Denial of adequate nourishment is now standard for domestic fliers, especially for those who must fly complex itineraries to get home. None of these legs warrant a meal but who wants to schedule time in the airport for food? I have a pot roast and cheddar omelet. And a taste of a cream cheese and oyster one. Had to be done.
Remind me not to travel on Sunday. Long lines. Completely full planes and the longest flight in a 727 with zero lot line knee room. At least the continuation of the flight from Salt Lake City to San Antonio that goes to Austin is nearly empty. Of course, it also only takes a few minutes.
Total time from airport to airport? Eight hours. The airline provided a bag of salty snacks, two cokes, a small bottle of water, a soggy sandwich, cookies, a bag of chips and an apple. Not bad really. Really, it wasn't. Actually I didn't eat much of it. It was so crowded I lost my appetite mostly. I ate some of the sacred Laughing Cow Cheese (La Vache Qui Rit) which I always have along on a trip to guarantee survival. The apple and sandwich are nice ideas but who can put mayo on a sandwich and eat an apple while wedged in a seat with not an inch to spare. I pity people who are larger than I am. No, you keep that deli sack in case you end up on the tarmac somewhere in limbo, starving. And you eat the chips which are easier to eat. Chalow is happy to see us. Wags her whole body. I stay up too late trying to settle in, unpack, unwind, regroup and download pictures.
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