Times have changed and times are strange
Here I come, but I ain’t the same
Mama, I’m coming home . . .
Me and two other panelists had a 2:00pm shuttle to Dwight D. Eisenhower, Wichita Airport. And after going through security, we went to River City Brewing‘s airport location for pre-flight drinks and food. One woman was off to New Orleans via Denver. The other panelist, like me was heading back to Queens.
These trips can be so busy that I wind up not speaking to anyone at home — beyond the “I’m boarding,” “I landed,” “I’m at my hotel,” texts. And honestly, I didn’t think much about home for much of the trip. But as we got to Sunday, I was looking forward to heading home for a few days, even if it meant 4 hours in planes, a couple of hours in airports and a bus ride back to my apartment.
While we were in the bar, the refrain was that the trip was very much like adult sleep away camp — and how delightful, how fun everyone was. We all either exchanged numbers or Instagram to keep in touch. And of course, there was the “if you’re in my town, we’re going to fuck shit up”/”you could crash with me” conversations.
I can tell you that some of the brightest, most talented and kindest people I’ve ever met have been through music. Last weekend reminded me of that.
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