The most poignant moment of my year occurred tonight in the Orlando airport as I slurped boxed wine from a pint glass while waiting for a delayed flight.
Dennis (“the Menace”, he humblebragged)–a drunken, bearded, thoroughly unmanicured tugboat deckhand from Kentucky (even I feel like I must be making this up), materialized near me and my colleague, Serena, as we stood quietly absorbing airport merlot during a thunderstorm.
Two and a half years ago, an old photo reminded me of a hike I’d taken outside Seattle with my family when I was 12.
From the first steps down the trail, I was determined to find a lake, river, creek, pothole, or watery hollow by any other name to jump into.
Found my first, absurdly awkward attempt at an online dating profile, written in the form of a Nigerian scam email. My account was reported as hacked.
