Way back in September, I took a 1x2 plane that touched down in Little Rock. The flight itself was delightfully uneventful — those tiny planes get to skip the \heartfelt\ update from Jeff Smisek "and [his] 80,000 coworkers".
After landing, all 30 of us aboard the plane shuffled out of most-delightfully-sized airport I've seen, but not before I checked in to gate 11, of course — this airport isn't going to mayor itself!
I've come to expect personality, conversation, and, well, danger out of late-night airport cab runs. Little Rock's James, just entering his 53rd year, gleefully delivered on 2 of 3, albeit silently for far too long as I dug deeper and deeper into the details of my destination.
|Me||...in Little Rock|
|*no response or movement*|
|*continued awkward pausation*|
|Me||...on Markham Street|
|James||MmmHmmm. I should hope so. Only one we got.|
I could tell early this place was going to be memorable.
NOTE While sarcasm has recently gotten a font, it isn't available everywhere, hence \heartfelt\
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