Welcome to PALIN country! You’ve come a long way, baby! (taken a few hundred feet up the road — and two months after the election — from the house I grew up in)
On Monday morning I awoke at an ungodly hour (PST) to ride to Columbus and meet up with my cousin and two aunts. These two aunts in particular I remember took me out to eat at O Charleys just a few weeks before I moved to California. We went to Brio at Easton, just a block away from where I used to work. My cousin caught us up on the goings ons for her multitude of brothers and sisters, and my aunt warned us all on the dangers of eating evil sushi.
The Columbus airport wasn’t packed. My flight to Houston had two empty seats. The flight to LAX however was an entirely different story. All 216 seats were occupied. We took off late by 45 minutes and had to sit on the tarmac at LAX and “wait for a tow to the gate.” The car park pick-up was easier than I thought – but I still shiver at the idea of some goofball driving around in my car for five days (my car smells like cigarettes and various other nefarious things now).
