After five days of salads, tofu and vegetarian lasagna atop polenta, I cut a swath through the airport in Charlotte, N.C., to Big Bad Dan’s Burger Shack where I smiled at a hamburger and French fries before cannibalizing both.
That’s where I saw her.
She shimmied into the burger bar, right before me, and the Red Sea parted. Even the French fries saluted. She wore a Ralph Lauren blouse and Coach shoes, carried a Vera Bradley tote and a Michael Kors purse. Immediately, all men within the restaurant were her hostages.