As I mentioned previously, we journeyed to my former home of North Carolina this past week. We didn’t get to hang any in my old stomping grounds of the Piedmont Triad, but we had a grand old time in Raleigh/Durham for the 36 or so hours we were there. We also had an excellent flying experience with Southwest, whom I would recommend to anyone and who I wish would relocate their hub from sorry old Love Field to Will Rogers International in Oklahoma City.

While we were there, I found out that a humongous rockslide had closed I-40 through the Smoky Mountains along the North Carolina-Tennessee border. As a college student I drove that treacherous patch of I-40 more times than I’d have liked, and I can say that it’s utterly terrifying. The curves on the interstate are something out of a car commercial, and one frequently sees fallen rocks and jackknifed 18-wheelers littering the sides of the highway, while alternately dodging said 18-wheelers who are using that particular area to make up time by doing 90 or more miles per hour down steep grades and through hairpin turns. It’s awful. Every trip to and from college I had to stop on the other side of the mountains and catch my breath. It always meant I got to Winston-Salem (or, if I was headed home, to Nashville) much later than I’d have liked, but I always needed about an hour to decompress after that drive.

Any rate, I totally dig this picture. I never get good shots out of the windows of planes, but I did on this trip. It meant that I had to accidentally pour scalding hot tea down my leg as I was doing so, but I guess that’s just the price you pay.