If you’ve been following the current presidential race, you might recognize it as the setting for a GOP bar fight. (Full disclosure: I had dinner at that bar the prior evening. My money is on someone being violently disappointed in their chicken fajitas.)
If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’re pronouncing it wrong. Spell it with a ‘c’ (Mackinac), say it with a ‘w’ (Mackinaw).
Today I’m wrapping up a (much-needed) life break and heading back to home after a week in Denver. (Are you impressed that I still managed to have my shit together enough to keep posts coming while I was away? Me. Too.)
I know that a week away from my job should be enough, but I’m already dreaming of my next vacation. So, do I finally achieve that goal of traveling somewhere alone? Perhaps, but in all honesty my heart is set on a beach with no cell reception. Anyone interested in sharing some sunscreen? Warning: I go SPF 50+ on a cloudy day.
There’s something about an airport that makes me a roller coaster of emotion. I realize that’s probably a little bizarre, but who are we to judge my psyche? When I fly into the Detroit airport, I’m immediately overtaken with a calmness that only comes from being near my family. When I soar over the Chicago skyline into O’Hare, I remember why I moved to the city and how much I love it here. A new destination brings a new airport and a new set of opportunities to explore.
Then again, airports are the worst. Long lines, terrible food, overpriced bottles of water. It’s a good thing they bring the promise of adventure.