Page 4 - Trip to Ireland Final Flip Book

clouds tumble over the hills and sheep graze among rows of

haystacks. Or for good measure, I envision a fisherman who

wades in a cold, shallow trout streams. Tiny trout skitter

through the sparkling green water that zigzags nosily down the

rocky creek bed in my mind.

We Land at O’Hare on time despite the delay but our gate is

occupied so we hang around on the runway for 10 or 15

minutes and then proceed toward our gate. Another slight

delay is announced as we wait for a truck to get out of our way

(a flying truck?). I get to the baggage claim area uneventfully

and low and behold so do my bags. I pop them onto my $1.00

rented cart and off I go following the signs for terminal 4 (the

International Terminal). All is going well and I’m enthralled

listening to a story about a baseball player (age 9) who cried

because his dad was so critical. The teller of this tale was from

Miami? We all squeeze onto an elevator which was good

because I want to know if they gave the kid the “game ball” and

thank goodness they did.

I trot along with my cart in tow and come to a juncture with 4

signs with arrows pointing in 4 different directions and all say

“Terminal 4”. Well, I figure the Cosmic Muffin was playing a
joke so I ask someone “Where the hell is Terminal 4???!!! You

can talk like that in Chicago since people are used to it. The
person told me to go up in the elevator – the one right behind

me. I go up and there is “Terminal 4” printed in red on a lovely

gray post. Now florescent lighting with gray paint does wonder

for the complexion so everyone looks angry but then I

remember I’m in Yankee country and figure it might not be the

paint.

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