I have no idea how to count lunch when time disappears down a trans-pacific airplane hole. I guess the Delta SkyClub Tokyo bits and pieces were a close approximation although by that point I was pretty sure I never wanted to have a body again, much less one full of airport food. I took a shower (this was my best idea of the trip by far) and then tried the regionally-specific SkyClub snacks. The two people next to us were doing a mileage run through Singapore. He was fashion director for Kleinfeld Bridal for years, first job was assistant to a much younger Donald Trump, running interference to enable the whole Marla Maples thing. I love being an elite traveler. 

The travel menu said we were being served dinner at the start of our twelve hour flight from Detroit to Tokyo even though it was only 12:15. Normalizing the meal and sleep schedule is key, everybody says: hygiene hygiene, hygiene. This first airplane meal was novel, the rest much less so. 

The kid is off to camp, I am off to Manila, so we were off to lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings. What do you want? I asked. What I always get. Kids meal, boneless wings with teriyaki on the side, fries, and a Coke, ice cream with chocolate syrup for dessert. I had the mango habanero boneless wings. Nobody asked me if I could handle it this time. 

I met D. for brunch, I am vibrating with travel anxiety, I ate and ranted and that was all I could eat for the day. We each got a plate of eggs and then an order of French toast to share. It is a good life. I would like to be able to enjoy it. 

Now it has happened twice so it’s an official ritual requirement of my life: stop by the Whole Foodsnon my way to therapy, pick up a turkey sandwich, go to therapy, take my sandwich to the curriculum meeting, eat my sandwich in the curriculum meeting and wonder why we’re all taking all of this so seriously. 

I pass that taco place on my way to and from therapy but have never thought of actually eating there. Club music even at 10am! But S. suggested it and it was on my way so that’s where we ate. He’s been in Oslo since I’ve seen him, had many things to say about how we memorialize resistance. I hope we have some to remember here. 

When I got home from therapy people were in our apartment putting making bookshelves. K. has made all of this happen while I bond my anxiety in various ways that don’t involve home improvement. But I’d forgotten it was happening so hadn’t prepared and ran right back out and got a burger on the way to a cafe. I would love a kale salad right about now. 

The O’Hare SkyClub had a soup I hadn’t seen before, Wicked Thai Chicken. I contend it was neither wicked not Thai, but that was plausibly a piece of chicken. I ate and caught up with email. So many good books about to come out. 

R. and I met after morning sessions and strolled through exhibits and chatted. I stopped by the booth to switch shifts with A. so I could see Hope Olson’s talk in the afternoon which meant early lunch on a tight clock which meant that salad bar again. The food court is named Savor. Nope. Company was good though. 

I was staring at my phone wondering what I was going to do for lunch when C. DMed me on twitter: What are you doing for lunch? Eating at the convention center food court with you!