And a non-religious, but culturally revealing item: the Charlotte, NC airport - where I was waylaid Tuesday after missing my connecting flight - has the distinction of an army of welcoming white rocking chairs under 10' high ficus trees scattered throughout the airport to receive travellers' weary bones. There I stopped fussing and fuming about my hijacked schedule and surrendered for two hours to the kind of relaxation I've missed for so long I didn't even know it was missing. All I needed was someone to bring me some iced tea. Ah, the graciousness of southern living!Rocking chairs at an airport? I like it.
For airports, anyway.
When I was on jury duty a while back some of the other jurors wistfully wished out loud that we had chairs that swiveled at the very least - something to make them more comfortable, something that facilitated shifting positions now and then. I mentioned this to my husband, adding that I vaguely thought the jury box used to have some sort of chair that at least had a back that had some give in it, or maybe sat on springs instead of the more usual four stiff legs. To be honest, I was wistful for chairs with more "give" myself, especially since it was a horrendously stressful trial.
Oh, yes, they used to have chairs you could rock, more or less, he said. The jurors drove the judge and the lawyers and the defendants and the claimants and the court clerks and the witnesses and the people in the gallery insane, he said. Trial after trial, jury after jury, rocking, rocking, rocking.
Oh, there probably would be that little problem, now that you mention it...
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