Can an airport be beautiful? I suppose it can, but I haven't seen any so far. Enjoying a fat-free extra mild grande latte from Starbucks, while waiting for my delayed flight to Philadelphia. I'm in love with the Texas fall weather.

Auntie Annie is tempting me, tickling my secret addiction. Should I give in and have a pretzel for lunch? A delayed flight makes you do just what the airport wants you to do: shop. And eat.
I'd better stick to my seat by the gate, drink my belly-friendly hot milk with 1% espresso and read the Economist that C was so kind to leave behind.