In case you need to run from the airport to my new house, here’s the route.
It’s 3 miles. Should take you about half an hour if you’re in decent shape or being chased by TSA dogs.
This is a scary crazy coincidence - I am outside the house, right now, touching my boobs. No. Shit.
This is almost exactly where a smooth, pale youngster by the name of Me came of age. I was in Burlingame, Calif., home...