I do not know if I had ever heard such words before. If I have, I have forgotten them.
“Join us at 6:00 a.m. on NPR for . . .” They struck with such force that the shock disoriented me and I failed to learn why I would want to do that.
I had left the Shire and was on the ever going on road. Again. This time it stretches to Barranquilla.
At the moment of the first-time heard announcement, the road bore the name of Taylorsville. I was making my way to the Louisville airport (SDF).
Shortly after the announcement, I discovered that the entrance to I-264 was closed. A detour ensued, essentially doubling back onto an alternate route that I could have traveled from the Shire had I only known.
Arriving at the airport, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that half the high school students in Louisville were flying somewhere at that early morning (perhaps I exaggerate slightly, but there were a lot of students). Massive chaos. Lots of noise. What every night owl wants to experience at 5:00 in the blessed a.m.
Fortunately I made it to security before many of the students. They travel light, but don’t know the drill. 3-1-1; take out computers; take off shoes.
The crowd may explain why I was not assigned a seat before I arrived at the airport. But I did get one there.
Going through security usually involves a special screening for Tom, my faithful CPAP machine. He is routinely swabbed for explosive residue. It is always a great comfort to know that he has not rigged himself to explode in my face during the night.
This time, my hands were swabbed as well. Good to know they won’t be exploding either.
At the gate, while waiting to board with a bevy of high school students, I learned that they seem to be going to LA – at least according to snatches of conversation I have heard. Perhaps I will be able to confirm that on the plane.
Next stop, Atlanta.
See you along the Trail.