On an October Tuesday, I was in the Atlanta airport on a layover. I needed a snack, so I wandered down the concourse to find something. I saw a nut store.
I moseyed over to the shop, where a tallish, 50ish man and four twenty-something boys stood in the line in front of me. The man looks like a washed-up wanna-be rock star--he's got frizzy black hair, white snakeskin boots, a gaunt face, black denim pants. He's wearing a shirt and suit jacket, very casual looking. He looked a little familiar, but then, everyone in an airport can look Read more