By Pa Rock
I am sitting at the Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport (referred to be friends and detractors alike as "Highfill International" - so called in honor of the nearest community to the facility, Highfill, AR - population somewhere in the two digits!). As you fly into or out of Highfill International, there is an amazing panorama of chicken houses for as far as the eye can see!
But don't let me give you the impression that Highfill is some sort of hick airport. I am currently drinking a very small diet coke, mostly ice, that was a very pricey $2.56. So, while arriving and departing planes may occasionally skid on chicken poop, the prices that the concessionaires charge are comparable to those charged by by big boys in places like O'Hare and JFK. Hicks, indeed!
My trip home was officially certified as an Ozark experience yesterday when I drove by a dead armadillo along the side of the road. Although armadillos are creatures of the southwest, I have never seen one in Arizona. Yesterday's sighting reminded me of the old joke: How are armadillos born? (Dead, along the side of the road!)