I love airports. Airports are responsibility-free zones where sitting around, reading frivolous magazines, texting, shopping, and eating are all legitimate uses of one's time, sometimes for hours on end. I was enjoying such an hour at JKF recently when, somewhere between Martha Stewart Living and Teen Vogue, I looked down at my bag of trail mix and - like an older-but-no-less-curious Alice in Wonderland - followed the tiny instructions on the packaging that said "see back panel for nutritional information":
And thusly was I informed that this finest of quality raw snack of the gods is a:
"Snak" club, indeed. Look at all the members! If this really were Wonderland, I'd be at a surreal WTO tea party. I imagine the whole thing taking place at headquarters in Geneva, starring the Gollum-like Pascal Lamy as the mad hatter, pouring a bottle of beaujolais down his throat as his confused trading partners try to figure out which nuts came from which country. Globalization rocks! Somebody needs to tighten up...I just...don't know...who. Zut alors!