Tired and a bit jet lagged, I headed for the nearest ladies room after getting off the plane. As I was leaving the restroom a little girl held my attention. Perhaps three, she stood under the hand-dryer holding her hands in the air, waiting for the warm air to waft down to them.
When nothing happened, she called to her mother who was occupied with assisting a second child in washing his hands. Calling out instructions to her daughter as to where to wave her tiny hands, the little girl giggled as the warm air came, like magic.
As she pulled her hands to her sides, she stopped the wall-mounted automatic hand-dryer. When she raised and waved them again, the blowing mechanism clicked on. Gleefully laughing she again pulled her hands to her sides to make it stop. Again she started it. Again she laughed. Again she stopped it. Again she laughed.
While I may be past the age of fascination by a hand-dryer and my power to turn it on and off, I am at an age of (continue reading →)
