Notes from the Waxhaws


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I boarded the Airbus 320 early this morning in Charlotte, bound for the West coast. As soon as I crossed the threshhold of the plane, stepping up from the boarding ramp, there was a loud klunk…and the plane went silent…all power apparently shut off. Immediately, through the open cockpit door, an apologetic voice exclaimed…“Sorry.” Then, with an audible click of a switch…the power came back on. The rest of the flight was uneventful…thankfully, with no other apologies necessary while we were airborne.

I’m always amazed that I can cross an entire continent on nothing more than a granola bar, a glass of water, and a cup of coffee…a feat the early pioneers couldn’t even imagine doing. But…after finally checking into my hotel in southern California, I was famished. I wandered next door to El Burrito, a walk-up Mexican restaurant. I ordered one of their specialty burritos, delectably named the Garbage Burrito. After about five minutes of waiting, a tiny screen door slides open. “Number 53!”…that’s me. Out slides a cardboard tray containing a burrito that appears to be larger than the bicep of my right arm. My body is saying “Yes,” but my mind is screaming “No!” I furtively grab the tray, along with my diet coke, and hurry back to my room to enjoy this guilty pleasure in privacy. The long, cross continental journey was worth the hardships…although I’ll probably pay for this later.

Written by Jim

May 18, 2014 at 10:11 pm

One Response

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  1. I don’t know how people can endure those audible clicks on flights without collapsing from fright. There is something about flying I love but those clicks make it impossible to recall.


    July 20, 2014 at 2:32 pm

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