As I wrote about earlier, I spent a lot of time in the Dallas/Fort Worth airport Monday, waiting for a flight back home that was repeatedly delayed and finally cancelled.
And everywhere I went, I heard Doyle Church.
Buying a cup of coffee at a Starbucks, I heard Doyle right behind me. I turned, but Doyle hid quickly; all I saw was some guy talking on a cell phone. Browsing at a news stand, I heard Doyle at the counter, but when I looked, again, he'd gone, leaving in his place a tall guy wearing a cowboy hat. Outside the men's room, at the boarding gate, everywhere I went, I heard Doyle's voice.
Except for one time. I was looking at newspapers in a gift shop when I could have sworn I heard Tex Waldron behind me.
Frank Mullen's very unofficial source of poop, skinny and bitching for present and former U.S. Navy Musicians.
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