36 Hours
Never Go to the Newark airport
Regular readers are familiar with my standard reach into stratospheric meaning. Today is different. My message is simple: never go to the Newark airport in New Jersey.
A scheduled 12 hour trip home became a 48 hour odyssey of delayed and cancelled flights, errors by indifferent agents, trekking back and forth between terminals inexplicably disorganized for maximum inconvenience.
So, what to do with those 36 hours?
My choice was to fill them with enthusiastic engagement. I met scores of strangers eager to connect, first to complain together and then to quickly rise into fun conversations that inevitably graduated into meaning and even spiritual intimacy.
Go figure.
I return home thrilled and nurtured by my unexpected journey. Still, unless you have the time and stamina, never go to the Newark airport!
It wouldn't matter which airport as I never go to any.
Beloved Wil,
I thought you were going to say you were grateful for having been routed through New Jersey. How else would those lucky people have had the chance to meet you and Tashina, without coming to Hawaii and finding your hideout. Also, if that wasn't enough, you both were able and reconfirm that every coin has two sides! I'll see if I can change my LaGuardia flight to Newark. Thanks for the head's up. hahahahahaha :-) :-)