Here I sit in the Brussels airport awaiting my flight to Prague and wondering whether the tune I'm hearing from the speakers can possibly be what it sounds like: a light jazz version of "Little Brown Jug."
I may be hallucinating. I got approximately zero sleep on the seven-hour transatlantic flight, thanks to sharing close quarters with a large man who (1) snored; (2) squirmed like a restless two-year-old; and (3) spoke no English. Lack of sleep plus in-flight entertainment (Planet of the Apes!) could well lead to auditory hallucinations of the "Little Brown Jug" kind.
I've never been to Brussels before and I can't really tell you what it's like because all I've seen is the airport. Belgium is pretty well socked in with clouds and fog, so from the air it just looked white. We plunged into this dense cloud layer and I kept expecting to emerge beneath the clouds, but these clouds extended right down to the runway.
Last year about this time I had about two hours to rest between the all-night flight and the first conference session, so that first day passed in a fog of tiredness. This year I'm arriving a day early so I can meet up with friends for supper tonight and then sleep off the travel weariness before the conference begins. As much as I appreciate this impressive fog, I don't intend to take it with me.
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