Home is not where the heart is. Home is where your bed is. Home is where your shower is. Home is where your stuff smells like your stuff.
I flew to San Diego on Monday. It’s a beautiful town with great weather, but it ain’t home. My return trip was the very, very, full, Thursday night 10:12 red-eye to D.C. Yes, I had to go to D.C. as my connection to Huntsville, AL. It was simply a miserable flight. Unfortunately, my legs decided they wanted to dance while I almost-slept. I’ve resigned myself to being able to say, “I have RLS (restless leg syndrome).” The lady next to me wasn’t too happy about it either.
Dulles airport is nightmarishly huge. I took a bus from one terminal to another. Then I walked and walked and took a M.C. Escher series of escalators to my connection gate. I swear, at one point, there was an escalator that went up one story only to have another go back down 30 feet later.
At the gate, I drank a large coffee and promptly fell asleep. I woke just in time to catch the drool from dripping on my shirt. Getting home to Alabama never felt so good. I promptly slept from noon until 6PM. I have to use the weekend to get my internal clock back on Central Time.
In the mean time, I shot some video of the U.S.S. Midway. It’s kind of long, but there’s a little something for history and military buffs. Enjoy.