I'm sitting in the delightful little Delta Airlines club room here at the airport in Nashville, TN, having just escorted one of the kittens here via BWI. I transferred custody to her best friend and her friend's Dad---a family who moved away from our town on the Eastern Shore last Summer. Their moving was heartbreaking to the older of the two kittens, and getting the two kids back together has been a priority of mine ever since. With a flight home two hours from now, I seek the refuge of the day pass in the Delta lounge, and watch the goings on from South Africa with bemusement. I've come to equate the calm and sterility of airport lounges with prime blogging time, so forgive me if I prattle on.
Prior to popping into this womb-like room, I had an early (1015) lunch at a bar in the airport terminal. While I used to drink quite a bit, I generally confined my imbibing to those parts of the day most generally associated with tippling. I never really considered mid-morning to be one of those times, though my compatriots in the airport bar seemed not to mind. There were about six people at the bar by the time I left, each of them having drifted there singularly, drawn by the site of the World Cup in the background. From what I could tell, none of them knew each other before sitting down. I watched as each new arrival was welcomed into the fold, and in turn, warmly greeted his fellow revelers. I wondered--is there some link here? Are those with a propensity to drink mid morn simply more garrulous than others? Are shy people unlikely to drink publicly at this time of day? Who knows. They appeared to be having a fantastic time though.
I have been startled by the attractiveness of the women I've seen wandering around this airport. Can it be that the "show business" aspect of Nashville makes this a little LA, or Vegas? Perhaps I'll spend more time here next time.
I offended a goodly number of Facebook friends the other day by taking a bit of a shot at US soccer, pointing out that a nation of 2 million souls (Slovenia) had tied us--a nation of 310 million. After forty years of listening to how soccer's explosion in the US was just around the corner, I'm growing weary of our underperformance.
A bit more about "the beautiful game"? The injury faking is out of control, the writhing in pain, the obvious dives--this is making soccer into performance art. You don't see this in the women's game. Nope. Not like that.
Ok, enough airport rambling for now.
UPDATE: Oh, two more things: 1) one of the stadiums the world cup is played in looks like a pretzel from the side view. 2) I'm tired of all the majestic, Lion King sounding music that accompanies all the commercials for the soccer.