After a delayed flight, an unsatisfactory chicken wrap bought at the airport, a dizzy/motion sickness spell that had me see spots mid flight, and the longest wait for a shitty shuttle in history, I am in California in my best friend's guest bed. As the headline says, Americana music pioneer Rodney Crowell was on my flight, and he was in coach with us plebeians. He stood up to fiddle with some stuff in his overhead bin as we were making approach, and I wanted to yell , "Sit down Rodney Crowell" but I thought better of it. I wish I had said something, because when I talked to my dad to tell him I arrived and mentioned Rodney, my dad said "I know Rodney Crowell. The last time I saw him was at the airport!" (My dad worked as an engineer on Nashville for 40 years. He knows everybody who was in the music business in town in the 70's and 80's). I have a massage scheduled for first thing in the morning. I may never go back home. Goodnight, Internet!