Thursday morning. I'm in BWI (Baltimore-Washington International Airport) at 4AM to make the first of many connecting flights that day. Having just drove there from the hotel, our team is breakfastless, and will remain so until we reach Toronto. I've grown accustomed to constant snacking during the trip (ugh), so I stray from the gate to find an bottled coffee.
(Speaking of which: I now know that I drink too much coffee? Why? Because I can tell what bad coffee tastes like. Blast.)
I go to dispose of the glass bottle in the garbage bin (ah, Maryland, state without recycling programs), and it lands right next to a paperback book (ah, Maryland, state without recycling programs). Throwing away a book? That's bad form, even if it is one of those airline novels of dubious permanence... but wait! What is that title, anyway?
Tales of Ten Worlds, by Arthur C. Clarke.
Okay, I'm not normally the type of guy that raids trash cans. But throwing out one of Clarke's books the day after he dies? As my tribute to the man, I can not let that stand.
And so, I get to add one more thing to the list of "things I never thought I'd do": Stealing something from an American airport.
I'm still unpacking, so the other tales of my Baltimore trip will be coming later. But that one's still fresh in my sleep-addled mind.