There’s a weird, melancholic high in running away from something by getting on an airplane and ordering a screwdriver at 8:45am. Like blowing out a trick candle.
[The meal of a lifetime at Uchiko in Austin. Wagyu sizzling on a hot rock.]
At the Hotel St. C, they’ll tell you there’s one rule: plastic wine glasses by the pool. I followed it.
[Beth Richards bikini + tie knot top.]
[Plane window shot of Dallas, TX as seen on ‘gram with an accompanying sad Bob Dylan lyric.]
Is there anything a fleeting look down a long, empty runway can’t cure? [I’ll let you know.]