I’m writing this post in offline mode due to lack of WiFi, which means that by the time it goes live, I’ll already been in New York and likely have been for several hours. As I write this, however, it’s early morning in the Philadelphia airport and I’m waiting to board my last flight to Buffalo. Why Buffalo? Why not Buffalo? I haven’t been to the Buffalo airport before. Maybe it’s nice. I guess I’ll find out.

The Philadelphia airport is nice, although it’s pretty different compared to the other airports I’ve been in. I had to take a shuttle to get to my departure terminal. Riding in a shuttle isn’t a weird experience for me; riding in a shuttle that’s driving around airplanes on a runway is a little weird. I guess I haven’t been in enough airports to know how common this is.

I only have two complaints about Philadelphia’s airport. First, there is a criminal lack of coffee shops on offer here. I’m assuming this is because I’m at Terminal F, which seems to be under construction or renovation. Hopefully, they are constructing and/or renovating some coffee shops. Second is the WiFi, which doesn’t seem  want to work, no matter how hard I try. Connecting isn’t the problem; it just won’t let me go anywhere. It’s very frustrating.

My watch and my smartphone both agreed that it was 7 AM, although my Zune, my laptop, and my internal biological clock agreed it was more like 4 AM. My body’s not the boss of me, however; my smartphone is. In my search for coffee, I ended up in some fancy new-fusion cocktail lounge bar thingy with a trendy name, modernist furnishings, and roughly four million flatscreen TVs. You know you’re in the future when you are surrounded by flat screens.

I wanted to mention this place, Re:Vive was the name, I think (told you it was trendy) because I ordered an omelet so I’d have something to go with my coffee. Nothing crazy, just your basic omelet with cheese, tomatoes, etc., overpriced as only airport fare can be. However, I want to mention this omelet because there was something magical about the sauce they used on this thing. I have no idea what this sauce is. It doesn’t correspond to any of the known sauces in my mental sauce database.

I’m forced to conclude that it is some sort of secret Philadelphia sauce that they’ve hidden from the rest of the world. The server looked nervous when she brought the plate. Maybe she could tell I was an outsider and not worthy of the sauce. Either way, it was amazing. It was so amazing that I’m certain there’s something malevolent about it. It’s probably some kind of blood sauce harvested fresh from the bodies of the stillborn, or somesuch. You just know sauce like this isn’t vegetarian.

So that’s my little story about Philadelphia and its sauce. I wish I could post this before I board my next flight, but the airport WiFi seems to hate me, as I mentioned. Maybe it knows I tasted The Forbidden Sauce