I load sixteen tons and what do I get.

I am in New York. Way layed on the trip to Italy. The big blue truck will be fixed by Tuesday, shareholders should know they had a direct hand in the repair. As I would not have been able to pay for it without you. Michael Perry has written a book in the language of my generation. Titled Truck, halfway through it and he has me bookmarking and underlining passages to pass along to all of you. It kept me sane on my 16 hours of flying and waiting yesterday. I will save you the boredom I practiced yesterday while sitting on the tarmac at multiple airports. I had no idea there was so much tarmac available for parking. It would have been nice to have a pretty girl with me, I could have at leasted practiced necking.

The wooden suitcase built for the trip is in lockdown. In a holding cell at JFK waiting for my next flight. I know I cursed myself by bringing a fresh shirt in my carry on, the universe hates a fresh shirt going to waste. Like when you spill lunch on your pants right after picking up your dry cleaning. Yesterday in Minneapolis I caught sight of the crew loading suitcases. Throwing them like practice for a yet established Olympic exhibition sport. But when they got to mine the man literally carried it the ten feet and set it down gently on the conveyor and when it arrived at plane side the belly loader held it up and a different ground crewmen snapped a photo on his phone. Warmed my little heart.

Hopefully the appreciation of the case continues through a day of waiting at the busiest airport in the country. We have been swinging around Manhatton waiting all day, forgot how much I like this place. No jet lag and mysteriously good mood. Maybe its the unemployment and portability of the situation. All other worries put aside. Many people missed right now, you know who you are, if only I had a plane of my own or hang gliders for everyone, that would be the way to travel. Next stop... New.

Patrick Melroy