Food ironies

Here I am at the Pittsburgh airport, waiting for my parents to arrive,
and I am hungry. This being an airport in a not particularly snooty
city, I expect that I can get a mediocre meal and a glass of mediocre
wine at a chain pub, say TGI Fridays. Pittsburgh airport does in fact
have a TGI Fridays (more than one, according to the directory), but it
closes at 8:30 pm. Which happens to be as I land.

The only place still open is, as you can see, an even bigger chain
than TGI Fridays. And they don't serve alcohol.

Meanwhile, I picked up this Barbara Kingsolver book at the airport in
snooty Seattle, a book which happens to be about the author and her
family packing up and moving to a farm in Appalachia to try and live
off only locally-grown, sustainable food for a year. The picture on
the front cover appears to be a handful of lovely scarlet runner
beans, grown locally and organically I'm sure. But there's nothing
local or organic about my dinner tonight!