Post One Hundred Forty: A plan comes together

Occasionally, I carry around a Zippo lighter. I don't smoke, I don't go to enough concerts to justify it, and I have never had the occasion to whip it out to light a girl's cigarette at a bar. It's probably just the pyromaniac part of me that likes playing with fire.

Anyway, I was at the airport making my way from remote parking last Tuesday, I realized I had the friggin' lighter in my pocket. I was running a bit late, so I didn't have time to take it back to my car. But I also knew that if I tried to bury it in one of my bags, it could be found, confiscated, and ultimately thrown away. Not wanting to lose it, I set it on top of some advertisement that was hanging on the wall of the hallway leading to the airport from the parking garage. Three days later (and after a very successful day of Katrina mediations), it was right where I left it.

Good things.