Andrew Jackson died on I-95

I was again volun-told to work late after getting to work, meaning, since I slugged in to work, I had to find an alternate means to get home (since slugging stops just before 6). I tried the bus for the first time last week, and it wasn't too bad, even in moderate traffic. But tonight the first bus filled up quickly, and the second one took a while to load up the long line of people and stragglers racing down the concourse. At least it goes directly to my park-n-ride lot first.
But I didn't realize I was near the end of my Andrew Jackson biography, so I was left with nothing to do mid-ride. I started deleting old random numbers off my cell phone just to kill time.

This morning I escorted the new Swedish Air Attache to his accreditation ceremony, joining the gentlemen from Rwanda, Burma, Japan, and Nigeria. Seemed a very decent fellow. While walking him around the Pentagon in my Service Dress uniform, some guy asked if he could show his visiting family what an Air Force uniform looked like, so I held out my arms model-style while he pointed out my ribbons and badges until our elevator arrived.

I loaned my 3-star general 20 bucks at the drugstore, as he had forgotten his wallet. He introduced me to the Vice Chief of Staff on the way back to the office, so that was cool. Then back to the all-encompassing work, planning my next event. I go to bed thinking about it, often dream about it, and wake up with false epiphanies about it ("General Owens doesn't need a room, he lives in town!" I say to my pillow, before realizing there is no General Owens).
Stupid pillow.