Home, barely. Our flight from Costa Rica to Dallas-Ft. Worth was quite late, our favorite airline put our inbound and outbound gates as far apart as possible and we made our flight to St. Louis with six minutes to spare (yeah, I know, first world problems). There is a people mover train that takes you between terminals at DFW. When we sat down I saw four empty mini bottles of Tanqueray gin on the opposite seat, the kind you might get on an airplane. There is a story behind this, but I'm too tired to figure it out.
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