Hour Zero: The Zero Hour

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This is indeed the age of the great mental checklist. Shoes, check. Phone, check. Passport, check. Chargers, check. Passport, check. Tickets, check. Passport, check. Hey, maybe I should check to see if those tickets are still there...

I look around with a macabre frown, as if to soak in every last scene of this holy American element. Alas, I must wave goodbye to the pink and green glow of the never sleeping casinos, that hearty guttural sound that is the bustle of the English language (like golden honey dripping down a sweet, sugar crusted melon), and, finally, the comfort of chairs. These all are things that I shall miss with a special fondness as I board these great air ships and fall into the darkness, into sunrise and toward end of the world. I wonder if I still have my passport ...

Boarding to Salt Lake now, enclosed picture is the plane and, I guess, some traffic cones.

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