Gelato for lunch. I thought, no I felt, I had earned it. I am in the midst of one of the stretches of travel that you have to face day by day; otherwise, you might scream, or worse. Other than counting on a good breakfast at the Silver Diner, I find BWI is just a way point. Lucky me, this trip I was able to schedule a late morning flight – I am just recovering from the Chicago-Salt Lake City travel last week. Not so fast. Now I was getting up today when I was going to sleep just 4 days ago. SW called me to tell me my flight had been cancelled. No reason given, just cancelled 17 hours before its departure (it turns out it was the impending snow storm). So, I gritted my teeth and rescheduled on the all-too-familiar 6:00am flight and rescheduled my shuttle from Atlanta to Athens where I am speaking at the Georgia Judges’ Winter Conference. Getting to the airport at 5:00am required equal amounts of flexibility – my cab didn’t show up. I called after a 10 minute delay and was greeted by, “Oh that guy doesn’t ever write down reservations. We can leave now and be there in 15 minutes.” No thanks, no time, knowing how bizarre the TSA situation is at Albany International Airport (why is it still called that since we no longer have flights to Canada?). Hearing my conversation, my trooper husband threw on clothes and drove me to the airport. When is Albany ever going to get a decent, reliable taxi company? Where is Reverend Jim when you need him?
After downing my gelato, dietary remorse set in. So, as penitence, I decided to walk from Concourse C to the Ground Transportation terminal, carrying my bag and briefcase, skipping the train service. I felt a little smug, not an honorable emotion. What a lucky, if slightly anxiety-motivated, choice to walk – between Concourses A and B is a beautiful exhibition of huge stone sculptures by African artists, most from Zimbabwe. I had the time to read the description of both the art and the artist, about 15 works in total. I couldn’t help but notice that only one woman was included in the exhibition. Agnes Nyanbongo was born in 1960 in Nyanga, Zimbabwe. Her sculpture (pictured) is called Conversation and is described as representing the “importance of coming together to make things grow and change.” It sounds like PRA’s mission.
Next week, Houston, San Jose, San Francisco, and Cleveland. I will need to indulge in more sweets and take the long way. I can’t wait to see what surprises lie ahead.