When Life Hands You Lemons, Sit Down on the Airport Floor and Cry

It turns out I'm still in Chicago.

And in a calamity of events, it doesn't look like I'm going to get home tonight. 

I really wish I'd gotten this guy's number.

I am not a good traveler. I'm wrinkled and weary and weepy.

At this point, I'm just looking for a flight heading South. I might end up in Jackson, Mississippi or New Orleans. 

Or Hawaii.

I have my laptop and plenty of time. Can y'all pipe in and tell me where you live?

And if you have sweet tea, please drink some vicariously for me.

Because every time I order it here in Chicago, I get a blank stare.

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