I park on level two of Burlington International Airport's too small garage, because my return flights usually de-plane on the second floor of the terminal and I like to walk a straight shot from the plane directly across the skywalk to my car. Traveling without even a carry-on assures I can navigate the route from plane to turning my truck's ignition within an elapsed time of about three minutes. It cost $82 for six days parking, in case you wondered.
Burlington's airport is clean, the ticket folks are attentive, and it's small. Not so small that it doesn't have all the bland modern day apparatus larger airports have, it just has less of it all. It's often better to have less things-food, people, magazines, trinkets. Not urinals. It's good to have too many urinals.
Relaxed in extra leg-room seat 5-C, a short taxi of I'd say 20 yards stops with a chime from the cockpit and our pilot's shockingly un- intelligible voice, (apparently it takes very little verve to fly a plane), informing us that Washington's Dulles Airport is stacked up and that we've been ordered to wait 30 minutes till take-off. 30 minutes stretched to and ended at 60, and we were off to Washington. I rarely travel on a tight schedule and I had a two-hour wait to connect once I got to Dulles, so the 60-minute hold-up didn't raise the tiniest hair on my neck. Flying and waiting time all gets filed under-time to read. And read I did.
My Christmas 2010 under-the-tree book haul totaled 5, and I'm well past done reading those, plus one, "Unbroken," given me by a fellow from the gym. So for the trip to my sister's in Albuquerque, N. M., I spent part of a 100 dollar gift certificate my ma got me on two books. Steve Martin's "An Object of Beauty," a novel about a young women mixed up in the New York City art world.