I found myself with ninety minutes to kill in Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport this afternoon while waiting for a connecting flight to Grand Forks, North Dakota. It was just enough time to learn a few valuable life lessons. There I was facing the semicircle of food court fare. Should I have a hamburger from A&W? It would probably taste good, it would sit in my stomach like a rock and I risked special sauce or some other condiment dripping down my front. Maybe a prepared sandwhich from the cold case at the looks-like-a-Starbucks-only-more-expensive coffee stand? No. I've had the best at Pret a Manger and everything since just disappoints. What about sushi? I wan't to like it. I really do. But I don't. Besides, it brought up bad memories of a run in with a bento box last week. Pizza? Maybe in hindsight, but the little express boxes looked like they had been baking under the heat lamp a little too long. I settled on the Chinese food. Blah. To borr...
Clippings and thoughts I'd rather not mulch