I sit in Chicago O'Hare airport, awaiting the second of three connecting flights. Next stop London Heathrow for a quick transfer to my final destination of Berlin. I'll skip my explanation on why this isn't a more straightforward itinerary and jump to how I feel about driving an hour to take three planes: fucking lame.

So lame, it's not really news worthy. I don't want to take up anyone's time (not that anyone reads my stuff) reading too much about this - might as well write about what I had for breakfast (coffee and toast, but it felt more like a midnight snack as I never really went to bed). I just need to jot this down as a note to myself more than anything else to never let this happen again.

Honestly, it's not that bad, there's wifi, swapped the Chuck Taylors for some slippers, just had a bloody mary, snacking on some snacks, and the iPod was recently loaded up with tunes from Medeski Martin and Wood, Talib Kweli, Pharoahe Monche, Kanye West, and Little Brother that I haven't yet heard. Still, I think I should know how to fly by now After all, I'm not a kid anymore; some hippies say my Saturn is returning.