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Dallas-Fort worth is a far-flung paradigm of an airport sprawling across acreage the size of Manhattan. To get from the runway where we landed to the terminal is about a twenty minute commute crossing over two major highways, so when the pilot optimistically stated that we had arrived early, he had to correct himself at the gate - but that was easily forgotten when we exited into a snowman-shaped wonder-world. Yes, DFW bears the distinctive shape of a bisected, three-tiered snow man of humongous proportions. And the mood elevating nature of this curvaceous creature surrounds you like an electric field. You feel so charged you're unlikely to miss your connection, though this is partly because moving from sector to sector is a snap: they've got a monorail that puts Disney to shame.
If you're not in a hurry, there is much to take in at this glitzy gateway to the skies, with its full saturation of eating/shopping/playing opportunities, from lowly McDonald to upscale Brooks Brothers to a towering aluminum castle to keep small children from totally decompensating while there is yet another flight delay, and so we're not really that surprised to find out that there is something else rather unexpected.
Why would someone wear yoga clothes on an airplane other than they are designed to be comfortable when having to endure seats that are designed to be uncomfortable? Because the over-imagined DFW has a yoga studio in Sector D for weary practitioners to get their downward facing dogs on between flights. It was beyond irresistible. It was, as Albert put it, photo worthy. Hence my first pix with a big fat refueling AA S80 in the background . You ask is DFW worth the stop? You bet.
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