Feb. 10, 2006
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After parting words, hearty handshakes, and reassuring promises
to "pick this up on Monday," I tossed my bag into one of the vans
headed out to the airport. While the Europeans waited
to continue onto Lufthansa, the Americans jumped out
at the domestic terminal. We walked in together, but a few feet inside,
I quietly slipped away and took the escalator down to baggage claim and
the rental car counters. Twenty minutes later I was breezing south,
heading into the Everglades and beyond, out to Key Largo, where
I checked into the first dive motel I could find. There, I tried to
cleanse my brain of all it knew about"global operating models"
and "whole domain offshoring" with a carefully applied salve of a well-grilled
cheeseburger, ibuprofen, and three episodes of Rome.