In the span from Charlotte to Roma, a person finds the time to grow old.  Ask an aching body, a weary mind.

In the span from Charlotte to Roma, that old person spares the electronics to fuss with the paper and to stare into space.

In the span from Charlotte to Roma, the one in retro phase nods off once or twice, but far too briefly.

In the span from Charlotte to Roma, other odd pairings come along: a) two meals to pick at; b) two flicks to check out; c) etc., d) my dear old “etc.”

In the span from Charlotte to Roma, neither one of us can see why “Beam me up, Scottie” shouldn’t work.

Touchdown: Eternal City, an hour late.