May 10, 2005
The Admiral's Club is the best investment you can make if you fly more than twice a year. It's like a set from a Star Trek episode compared to the terminal below. It's gleaming and clean with a wonderful window out onto the tarmac. Constance was bending my ear about summer vacation ideas when I sampled the orange juice. Sadly, it was from concentrate. It's simply juice gone wrong. It threw me so far from my horse that I think I agreed to go to Disney World. I've stolen away to the work room to bring you up to date, Diary. I blocked off a few cubicles and Leon gave me a kendo lesson over the phone. I sparred with a newspaper rack and am happy to report I won handily. It was awkward when I was forced to hand a gentleman who looked like Pat Riley a rather tattered business section. Martial arts spare no one.