It's 1990 in Chicago-O'Hare

written earlier:

Finding a power outlet to charge my laptop in the Chicago O’Hare International Airport is like trying to find free WiFi here.

Impossible.

I did eventually find an outlet. It took me several terminals but at C12 I got lucky. Sneaking behind the terminal’s front desk, I found an oversized power strip with an opening for my charger.

Refusing to pay for the WiFi, I decided to type my post into Microsoft Word while my laptop charged. So here I sit, partially hidden by the desk, hoping that borrowing an outlet isn’t against some federal law. You can never be too sure in an airport.

The flight over here was fine. I’m hungry because United doesn’t even serve pretzels, but at least I’m energized by a cup of in-flight coffee strong enough to fuel a jet.

My mom and I have about two hours left until we board the plane for Paris. It still hasn’t clicked in even though a family of four is chatting away in French a few seats away from me. I haven’t tried to listen in yet; I need more practice first.