Our flight on the way to Mexico was late.
Not just a little late.
FOUR HOURS LATE!
We walked. We talked. We bitched. We moaned. We ate. We napped. And we STILL had like three hours to kill before the plane arrived to whisk us away to Margaritaville.
On one of our jaunts around the aeropuerto, we found a cool set of escalators. I talked my husband into (read: bribed with sexual favors) letting me take pics of him on it.
He got into it, actually, and played the part so well, that other people began taking pics of him, too. I don’t know if they thought he was famous, and I was papparazzi, or if they, like me, just thought it looked cool.