In the olden days (as in, when I was a kid), the end of an American space mission would be marked by a splashdown. The spacecraft would parachute into the ocean and the astronauts would emerge, looking dazed but thrilled to have made it.
This is how my splashdown looked the last day of my journey, almost three months after my departure. Nowhere near as arduous; but as you may recall, I was as nervous as Neil Armstrong at the beginning — when I had a mini-meltdown and almost chickened out.
Had my farewell-to-the-Southwest meal at this joint. Even though I knew it was a chain, and I’d actually eaten there in Pennsylvania and wasn’t impressed. But emotion got the better of me, and I ordered anyway.