I got a lucky silver dollar; my grandpa gave it to me, now he's dead

My feet are really really sore. To butcher a phrase, my dogs are not just barking, but they have barked so much and so loudly that the neighbors have come by to put them out of their misery. Why are my feet so tired? Because I have dragged them everywhere today in my non-sensible heels.

I didn't really mean to. This is quite unlike me, but I didn't think ahead to what I would be doing today and didn't dress with comfort in mind. That was a mistake. A huge mistake. A rookie mistake.

So here I sit between C20 and the women's restrooms at O'Hare and I am so effing tired that I think I will fall over and die. For the record, I've hit 2 states, the District of Columbia, and four airports in less than 24 hours. Fun, but as I said, tiring.

By the way, a tip for the ladies who may ever be on the C concourse here: The restrooms at C24 are always full. Just keep walking and about 50 feet away is the empty bathroom near C20.

A tip for those who may find themselves stranded at O'Hare and decide to explore: There's absolutely nothing to see at the other terminals. So don't bother. If you do decide to go gallavanting around anyway, remember that Concourse G has the best women's restrooms.

Of course, I didn't go to all the terminals (because I didn't want to go through security again), so there might be something really super cool in Terminal 5, but judging by the track records of all the other concourses, I would bet not.

And what's up with skipping numbers? There's Terminal 1, 2, 3, and 5, but no 4. And why do you have to leave security to get to Terminal 5? So many unanswered questions about the mysteries of ORD.

. . .

While stranded, I decided to get myself one of the Italian beef thingies that are supposed to be so good here in Chicago. The TSA guy warned me that it wouldn't be as good as if I got it "in the city", but I decided to go ahead anyway. I am here to report that either those sandwiches suck ass and Chicago is just being "windy" about their cuisine, or the ones in the city are waaaaaaaaay better.

My stomach hurts.

Ow. Now my butt hurts from sitting on the hard concourse floor. It's a pretty floor, but a luxury chaise it is not. It is clear that I am falling apart and need to get out of this airport before i completely disintegrate.

Man, I am tired.

I can't believe I have to work early tomorrow. Ow.

Again, ow.