Deborah and I just ate burrito bowls for dinner from Salsarita's Mexican joint (best value meal) at the airport in Charlotte NC where we are laying over this evening ahead of the final leg of our trip back to Wisconsin.
The restrooms at this airport have a bizarre combination of retro and nouveau. In most respects, they are modern airport restrooms, repleat with autoflush toilets and motion sensing faucets and paper towel dispensers. They also have well dressed servants who greet you and offer you mints or mouthwash, or dispense the autodispensing paper towels so you don't have to. It's a nice relic of deep south hospitality, but a bit awkward if you are used to handling your own ablutions in the men's room. There is also a tip jar at the restroom exit so you can show your appreciation for the uninvited servitude.
So far, our trip home has been smooth, though I know I risk jinxing it just by saying so. So I will also add the proverbial "knock on wood." Our layover here in CLT (the airport code for Charlotte) is nearly three hours. Due to a combination of historically bad airline efficiency and Deborah's occasional need for assisted transit in airports, I usually incorporate long layover windows into trips when I book them. It's better to have extra time on your hands than not enough. As a writer, I can use the time to write posts like this or chat with Deborah about what we call our "hypothetical future." We had such a chat just prior to my writing of this post. It was a discussion of our quasi-serious plan to vacation in Australia at the end of 2016 so that if Donald Trump really does become President, we can exercise PLAN B, an actual plan to expatriate ourselves from the US for a few years while America crumbles and burns.