After three days in transit since leaving Byron Bay Thursday
morning, including the groundhog-day like phenomenon of Friday happening twice, I’d made it most of
the miles to Maryland when my plane got stuck on the tarmac in
Los Angeles. I missed my connection, and at six pm in Denver was told
apologetically that, since I’m flying standby, I was on my own until the next
flight at ten am.
At first this was depressing, largely because I’d been
promised dinner and a nice comfy bed before the “STBY” on my
ticket was noticed. But after an hour or so of wandering the wilds of the
Denver airport, I rediscovered its many charms. I sat in a Woody Creek café and
had a reasonably priced and scrumptious dinner, with lovely orange and wood
lighting making a dramatic contrast with the blues of falling night
over the tarmac and airplanes outside the windows.
I found a sports bar right next to my terminal which claims
it will be serving up hot oatmeal breakfasts before my flight leaves in the
morning.
I’ve found the Caribou Coffee.
And the wireless is free.
I’m in heaven.
So I’m sitting in a comfy chair on the top floor of the
airport (heat rises, and Denver is COLD), happily catching up with the world.
Next up, it’s a week of family, including my older brother and
sister in law in town and an uncle’s reunion at an Orioles game,
and my team is WINNING! GO BOYS GO! and god I can’t tell you how I’ve been wanting an Old Bay crab pretzel with
Natty Boh.
Life is grand.
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