Walking in Memphis...

Well I'm on flight 1253 to Baton Rouge via Memphis now, having been dutifully cavity searched by the most thick-browed minions of the TSA, eagerly awaiting my Halal meal.
I actually used to order kosher- they are usually better than airline slop. I got a kickass cheese omelet once, but the unleavened bread was a bit much. I wonder if ordering Halal comes with a free secondary
screening at security.

I had my mandatory Smithwick's and now we're taking off- see you later!

...

Okay a few hours later and now I'm in Memphis airport. Flight's been delayed an hour. It's 8pm and they're already closing their Elvis themed restaurants. I didn't peek in to see if they had Fool's Gold Loaf or peanut butter 'nanner sammiches. Hyeah, I could use one of them bout now....
Sarah (the dame in the film noir that is my life) called her folks and we were supposed to go to a Mexican joint called Nympho's. Or Ninfa's. I'm not sure I'd want to eat a burrito from Nympho's, who knows where it's been. Well now they are probably closed so we'll have to go to Sonic's, oh the humanity. Sarah's been pining for Sonic since the day I met her, so we have to go there. They have the unmitigated temerity to advertise in the NJ area when they have no damn restaurants except for deep in the forests of Pennsylvania, from whence no civilized man has returned.

But enough of that shit, what kind of "major" airport closes its restaurants at 8pm? I am a red-blooded American and I require beer to fuel a constant rampage of mayhem. That Smithwick's wore off days ago, and I am reduced to watching basketball on a seat that is being unkind to my chiseled Greco-Roman ass.

Hopefully my next report will be from the RV to which I will be confined, as an unruly Yankee in Confederate territory, and I will report on the greycoat troop movements in code, so you can get the precious information to the brave young men fighting to preserve the Union.