This is love.

Our airplane was late arriving in Charlotte, NC on Saturday when we were on our way home from Paris so we missed our connection to Columbus. After some discussion with the clerk at US Airways, we were given a coupon to cover a night at a local hotel.

The discussion went like this:

Clerk: Here's a discount coupon for a hotel in Charlotte.
Me: I thought you would pay for our hotel.
Clerk: Why should we?
Me: Because it was your airline that made us miss our connection.
Clerk: What makes you think that?
Me: The fact that our flight was almost an hour late and we weren't even out of Customs by the time the gate to our connection had closed.
Clerk: I don't know why your flight was an hour late.
Me: Neither do I. But it's why we missed our connection. I think you're supposed to cover our hotel.
Clerk: I have to check on that.
MANY, MANY LONG MINUTES LATER...AFTER SEVERAL PHONE CALLS AND LOTS OF LOOKING AT A COMPUTER MONITOR.
Clerk: We don't know why the flight was late.
Me: Neither do I. But it made us miss our connection.
Clerk: I have to speak to my manager.
MANY, MANY LONG MINUTES LATER.
Clerk: We don't know why your flight was late.
Me: Neither do I. But it made us miss our connection.
MANY, MANY MINUTES LATER.
Clerk: Here's a coupon for a hotel.
Me: Thanks.

Not riveting. But a good example of how airlines like to make you squirm a lot, and become a little bit stubborn, to get what they really do owe you.

Oh, yes...they gave us each a $10 voucher for dinner. I wonder if the CEO of US Airways can eat dinner at a hotel for $10?

Anyway, we got to the airport, ate a meal, and went to bed so we could be up at 4:00 a.m. to get to the airport by 6:00 a.m. for our 7:36 a.m. flight.

But before I went to bed, I had to wash out some underwear. I'd planned for 7 nights away. Not 8. And that meant I was short a pair...and you know how I am about underwear. Obsessed. I think it should be a Federal Law that everybody wear underpants...and there I was -- woefully, and almost criminally, short a pair.

I washed some out and hung them up to dry.

When I awoke in the morning, Alex had already showered and announced to me, "Your underpants aren't dry yet."

But knowing how I am about underpants, he added, "I'll take care of it."

Imagine how elated I was when I got out of my shower, and he was standing there holding a hairdryer in one hand, blasting hot air at the enormous underpants he held up in the other. They flapped madly as he diligently blasted ever inch of them.

Yes. That's love.

Any guy who'll dry your underpants with a hairdryer while you're in the shower is a keeper.