17 Hours in the Real America

 

17 Hours in the Real America

On Friday, October 12 my wife, Peggy, and I took the overnight train out of Washington’s Union Station bound for Chicago and the Direct Marketing Association conference and exhibition. The following Wednesday, we flew home: Up at 5:30 a.m.; traffic jam during the taxi ride to O’Hare; hefting our bags to check-in at US Airways; being treated like terrorists by screeners; calorie-laden breakfast at Chili’s with plastic eating utensils; two hours in the crowded waiting room amidst loud cell phone yappers; middle seats in a sealed aluminum tube and hurled at 500 mph across the country for two hours; exit madness with apprehension over the