Yep, nothing builds character like sitting helplessly as a 2 hour flight turns into a 6 hour flight. While Chicago may have been snowy, wet and miserable, Saint Louis was enjoying a beautiful sunny day. I know this, and have photographic proof, because my plane landed there and sat for a while after running low on fuel while holding over Peoria. I swear I didn't kill any albatross, and I have no idea why the weather cursed me so these past few days.
Eventually I made it home, having had a successful trip to Dallas. The filming went well, and I was told by professionals who know such things that I had a knack with the teleprompter. Anyway, the client was happy and I had a good time. My debut in industrial film is in the can.
I had a little time to wander around Dealey Plaza, even though it was dark by the time I got there, and I was struck by how small a space it was. Frankly, my whole world turned a little upside down--after standing near the "X" on the street marking the spot where JFK was hit, and looking up at that 6th floor window, I don't think it was that hard of a shot. Oswald could've made it. That still doesn't explain the pristine bullet, or why anyone would route a procession through a choke point like that, so I still have plenty of conspiracies to ponder.
The best part of my visit to Dallas was finding a hamburger place in a neighborhood east of the Book Depository. The name of the place was the Twisted Root, and I treated myself to a burger with hot sauce and blue cheese, with sweet potato fries and a Shiner Bock long neck. Instead of giving you a number when you order, they give you a little card with some redneck name on it that they pick out of a basket. So what card did I get?
How did they know I once had a dog named Buford? Or that I was a lawman? (Hopefully a less rotund and ridiculous lawman than Sheriff Justice.)
And now I'm home. On Monday we leave for New Orleans.
