Fly Time

I arrived at SeaTac this afternoon with a cool three hours to spare before my flight, only to find the inbound flight had left Heathrow late and the outbound flight delayed nearly another three hours, officially. Unofficially British Air tell us they’ll have us off the ground an hour ahead of that, and presented us all with meal vouchers. After checking in, I killed an hour in Borders and picked up The Sunday Philosophy Club, first in a newish mystery series by Alexander McCall Smith. If you’re not familiar with Mr Smith, he’s the author of The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency and five or six later books in that series, which features Precious Ramotswe, owner of the first female-operated detective agency in Botswana. Anyone who loves Africa, or even the idea of Africa, should rush out and buy these, by the way. They’re quite cozy, which is not really my usual style, but the masterful combination of simplicity, innocence, wisdom, and quiet humor won me over.

This newer series takes place in Edinburgh, and the protagonist is one Isabel Dalhousie, editor of the Review of Applied Ethics. I’m quite looking forward to whiling away the waking portions of my next 14 hours with her.

The terror has abated somewhat, replaced by wildly varying mixtures of excitement, resolve, and whatever feeling one calls it when one is saying “I have no idea why I’m doing this.” I have yet to identify this emotion by name, but I’m working on it.