Flight 714 to Chicago left without me. That's why I'm now a little bit north of South Carolina, in Charlotte, where they eat hush puppies and beef briskets and don't care about Harry Potter.
Walking through Philly airport (for the 200th time this trip), carrying the book was like wearing a sign saying "book club, come on in, have a conversation". Those who've read it want to know how far you've got. Those who haven't, want to tell you they're going to and want to know how far you've got. Those who're never going to read it want to know whether this is the same as the movie that's just come out and by the way, how far have you got? One person justed wanted to know what the big deal was. But in Charlotte, as I said, they don't do Harry Potter. But they do hush puppies, beef briskets and corn bread
It would have been a miracle if I'd got through all my super-organised travel plans without mishap. So I didn't. I got the airport wrong and missed the direct, non-stop, pain-free, pre-booked flight to Chicago. So I took a flight to Philly on the chance that they may be able to get me on the fully-booked connecting flight. And a confirmed ticket for a scenic route encompassing most of the eastern states. Of course I didn't get on the connecting flight. And the scenic path brought me here, to Charlotte Airport, where they have white wooden rocking chairs opposite a pit barbecue with hush puppies, beef briskets, corn bread and sweet potato pie.
So, if you ever find yourself in Charlotte by accident, do not fear. I vouch for the fact that Hush Puppies are real. And they taste good. And they're not the MacAmerica version. And the wireless internet works much better than the other airports I've been in.
I would have liked to end with the moral that the best option is to get to the right airport in the first place, but it's not, really.
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