Sige na

Saw my dad off to the airport. It was the post-modern equivalent of riding the horse to the city gates in farewell, only our horse was an funky taxi with an ornery Bangladeshi driver. I jumped in at the last minute when the cab pulled into the driveway, decided to catch a train home at the airport. I had a question to ask, and I kept him company up to the security gate. My dad and the driver had a tense standoff in the car when the driver answered one of his questions with a snappy attitude, which resulted in a confusing exchange of money when he tried to return my dad's tip but got the total wrong anyways.

Another lonely trek home from O'Hare.