Oh Sacramento airport, I didn’t expect this from you, no not at all. I feel sort of blushing and embarrassed and like I need to spend some more time with you and, I don’t know, apologize for assuming you would be as beige and boring as the city you serve. But I am so wrong. Your A terminal is…light and airy. Two ladies have rolled past me in Segways. Your food court shames other food courts. It wasn’t like the usual political race, choosing the best of the unknown and greasy worst. I actually love La Salsa and CPK, while sort of merely enjoying burger king, and quiznos, but I decided to go with the untried Lemongrass which promised fresh Asian cuisine. I chose the spicy Thai noodle soup Ko Sui (or whatever.) It appears that my mouth is a better (though slightly scalded) place for it. I have now burned my tongue ladling your coconut curry broth with big pieces of white meat chicken into my mouth. I am addicted to your flavor and can’t stop even though I know you might hurt me. I feel like I want another layover with you (airport terminal A and soup respectively), get to know you better. I’m actually a little melancholy now that I realize I won’t be able to enjoy you on my return flight from Portland. In more enjoyable news, I have broken out into a light curry-induced sweat and I’m quite pleased about it.
At the same time, fie on you, Cinnabon! You always try to thwart me at every airport driving my scent sensors into flywheels of temptation. You are the devil’s treat. You have taught me to identify with what crack addicts must feel like when they want their next fix. And for months, months! I have been able to be strong and avoid you. And the only way I have been able to accomplish this feat is the knowledge that one of your cinnamon rolls has like 12000 calories. But now, you have made MINI bites. NOOOOOO. No no no, bite size portions of 1000 calories make you irresistible. I am undone.
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