I’m always shocked by the irony of an airplane toilet. It’s one of those places where you can tell that those responsible for posting the signage had no faith in man’s intelligence. Yet at the same time the signs really set the occupant up for failure or criminality.
“Please enjoy a duty-free flight,” announced the flight attendant. My eyes shut and I smiled at what I hoped would be a true and magical statement. While I love not paying duties, I wasn’t thinking greenbacks. I was praying against brown splats. The plane would only suspend itself in the air for a whole fifty minutes. Sixty-three, the attendant had noted from gate to gate.
While I was in Dominica’s largest city Roseau, which is more like a quaint little capital that feels like New Orleans without the Jazz or the party or the food, I was looking to leave Roseau. Read more
I love the idea of tasting a borough. And of all of the boroughs to taste, Queens, the most ethnically diverse, sounds most delicious. (Tasting Queens also sounds the most regal and ribald, but that’s content for sites like delectablemonarchs.gov and diningwithdrag.org.)
Let me begin again: Queens Taste was a raw night. Some of the borough’s most wonderful offerings were served up in the Hall of Science. Read more
When I was in college, Monday night was just an extension of the weekend. (So too were Tuesday through Thursday.) But when you strap on the tie and white-collar yourself to the corporate world, Funday Mondays go the way of keg stands and funnels. You just don’t do them any more. But down in Atlanta, in a much nicer setting than a frat house basement, a few friends set up a brewery called Monday Night Brewing and things still get corporately wild.