I just can't seem to help myself !

I'm not a particular fan of Memphis, Tennessee, simply because of an ongoing war with one of the carriers, but if you fly to or from any airport in Louisiana other than New Orleans, you're only selections are Atlanta, Houston, Dallas or Memphis.

Memphis, like Atlanta, is one of those places that seems inevitable that you're going to arrive at the end of one terminal and re-plane in the far end of another. I think that must be a law or something. Anyway, I've digressed so back to the tale.

Even though I pretty much dread putting up with the Pinnacle carrier for Delta/Northwest in Memphis, one of the joys there is Jim Neely's Interstate Bar-B-que found on either wing of the "Y" shaped B terminal. My favorite is the Chopped Brisket Smoked Barbeque sandwich. Actually, it really isn't a "favorite", it's the ONLY thing I order there. "What's the big deal?", you might ask. Well, now that you've asked, it's a wonderful piece of culinary decadence, guaranteed to make you stop. It will set you back 8 bucks but what the heck, I'm on the company ticket and it's not like turning in a receipt from Ruth's Chris Steakhouse and they shrug it off.

That mouth watering hunk o' burnin' love probably is a half pound of low fat beef brisket permeated with a deep smoke flavor and makes your lip curl back and gives you twitch like Elvis. It's served up with a tangy sweet sauce that you will drink if you don't open up that sandwich and drown your meat with it. Oh, there's sides available and quite sure there has to be a couple of other items on the menu but for me, it's the barbequed brisket sandwich. I can smell it just as soon as I see my itinerary say, "MEMPHIS."

I thought that if I ever had an hour or two on the ground, I'd make a pass by either the 3rd street location or the one in Southaven , MS but from the reviews I read about, the service is third degree lousy. So, I guess that means I'll forever be stopping in at Terminal B when I'm there.

Travel Arrangements

When I've been on an assignment for a while, I'm always speculating where and when the next one will be. For the past few days, there has been banter between me and home office on whether to get a round trip ticket back to Detroit for my next visit at home. The last conversation pretty much insinuated I'd be there until Friday but no decision had been made whether a return flight was in the picture.

I was surprised this afternoon when I got a call from the office telling me I needed to be in Bridgeville, PA, just out of Pittsburgh, immediately.

My mind jerked trying to snap myself into travel mode, calculating how much time it would take to get back to the hotel, pack my bags, check out and hook it to Detroit International Airport. There were several things needing my attention on the computer, paperwork needing to be sorted and clutter on the desk needed to be cleaned up before I left. All that and be able to catch the flight. I had even planned to wash my clothes Thursday night before I traveled.

After I settled down a bit, I realized how this exactly reflects life. Pardon me if this gets a tad morbid but here's how I reason it out. When we are supposedly healthy and not too long in the tooth, we calculate mentally, "Oh, I've got another 20 years left before I kick the bucket." Plenty of time. Well, life is no guarantee and it's much like my experience when I got the travel call today telling me to go now and not wait until the weekend.

When that time comes, many of us will not have our bags packed, no travel arrangements, no hotel reservations and no time to call everyone you know to let them in on your new destination. It may come as a complete surprise.

With this in mind, hopefully my bags will be packed, not too much clutter on the desk and no dirty laundry when the time comes.

I hope it's that way for you too.

Everybody has a hobby

I had wanted to ride up to the Mackinac (Mackinaw) Bridge and Island where the upper peninsula connects with the southern part of Michigan but that would be a 12 hour round trip not counting wandering around time. Plan "B" turned out doing a little flea market shopping which yielded nothing.

On my way back to the hotel, I took the scenic view along the Detroit River through the suburbs of Trenton and Wyandotte. They are the older but cleaner and neater areas full of auto plant retirees. The streets are home townish with active shops and little parks along the river.

Getting out at one park, I walked up on a fishing pier where not too serious about fishing families gathered and young sweethearts wrote messages on the rails. One guy caught my eye. He was throwing something into the water and dragging it back in with a ski rope. As I got closer, I could see it was a piece of pipe with hooks fashioned out of coat hangers. He would throw it out, let it sink then slowly drag it in again. It seems he spent his Saturdays doing that, sometimes dragging in lost fishing lures and other objects thrown or lost in the water. Frankly, he was having as much luck as the others.

I guess there's something for everyone.