Airports

Ahhh, Jamba Juice. How I miss thee! A Choco Moo’d certainly hits the spot when you’re rustling around Houston’s main airport, waiting for the next connection. Even three hours of a layover can’t entirely be killed by having dinner with a great bud!

Airports (and airplanes) have long been a part of my life. I’ve frequented small airports like Van Nuys with my Dad – the story being every Saturday or so he’d go flying in his plane to keep up his flight rating, often just jumping to the “next town over” just to get breakfast and fly back. What would have been a two hour drive turned in to a 45 minute airplane jaunt. A good number of times I would go with him – in a rented Piper Dakota or one he eventually part-owned. Now he’s a part owner of a Cirrus SR22, that comes with its own parachute in case you feel coming down on your own three-wheels is too mean a feat.

Nowadays, I’m often enough finding myself sitting on the tarmac in a 737 or 757 – ready to jaunt off to the next big adventure. Zoom, zoom!

Do you like flying? I love it.