January 24, 2012


Top: I love retro airport seating and symmetry and when people know to stay out of my shots.

Middle: The Midwestern snowstorm I (and hundreds of others ) got stuck in. It was very pretty, and very dangerous, which is the best kind of pretty.

Bottom: The inter-concourse (intercourse?) tunnel at Detroit airport, which is my favorite airport, if only because it delivers me to and from the cabin each year. Stops at the Einstein Brothers Bagels between B and C concourse are required each time. Everything bagel, toasted, with plain cream cheese. Perfection.

Anyway. The tunnel. If you're traveling with me through it and you're from Oklahoma, I'll call it the "Flaming Lips tunnel" because it's psychedelic and loud and otherworldly. BUT, if you ALSO happen to be Kathleen, I'll call it the "birthing tunnel." Because we like to imagine the infant's journey through the birthing canal is very similar. But mostly we just like relating everything back to vaginas. Especially psychedelic and loud and otherworldly ones, like ours.