We finally made it to the airport after a series of delayed and rescheduled flights. The philadadelphia airport was buzzing with high school students in varying hues of swishy nylon going back home after the Penn Relays. A very lucky and well-behaved group on our plane to Atlanta were heading back to Barbados.
So we’re all collected around Jenn’s fortunate Tupperware full of nuts ready to depart for our 15 hour flight to Joburg. An airport worker rolled by with a utility cart. Jenn made a double take at one of his more inscrutible instruments and said, “I’d like to know what a tennis ball on the end of a stick is for.” The guy heard her comment and was happy tooblige us with a demonstration. He theatrically pointed to a black heal scuff on the otherwise shiny floor. He unsheathed the tennis ball stick from his quiver and in the style of a game show host assistant completely rubbed away the offending mark with the tennis ball. All three of us let out a triad of approval and amazement. I think we were pretty dehydrated. But it was a great tool.
…I was just about to calculate the number of hours of travel we have left and Bill said it’s better to calculate in days. I gave up on my calculation.