Pleasant dreams.

I'm sitting at the Greensboro, N.C. airport, waiting to board my plane home. Right across from me sits a paunchy man, probably in his mid-50s. He's leaning back as far as he can, with his legs stretched out in front of him. His head rests at a right angle to his shoulders, as if there's a hinge in his neck. He is snoring, loudly. If we were in a smaller room, the windows would be rattling. If we were in a car, we'd both have gone deaf by now.

Last week, waiting at O'Hare for a flight back to Cincinnati, I saw the exact same thing, again directly across from me. I doubt today's Mr. Sleepy is the guy I saw in Chicago, but he easily could be, really.

I chuckled to myself at O'Hare sleeper, but I've realized that just as easily as he could my current neighbor here in North Carolina, I could be him, too, stretched out, snoring, dreaming. The only thing that keeps me from doing it is my own self-consciousness. I'm told that when a man reaches a certain point in his 50s, he no longer cares so much about appearances.

Not giving a shit -- I look forward to it.