On Sunday night the airports were graveyards. The passengers that would have flown that day delayed their plans for the Monday-long weekend. Not me, though. "Day off" is a relative concept when you are primarily self-employed. All I could think about was noise and acrylics, the way the wheels rolled over dirty tiles on the way to the x-ray machine . . . and the 5 pound bag of soybeans in my checked luggage. The small comforts that only a big city can provide.