While stuck in O'Hare International Airport for nine hours last Tuesday, I struck up a conversation with a man from Wyoming. Ten minutes in, he made the following proposition.
"I tell you what, if you're interested, I'm looking to sell off a million acres."
I laughed. "That's a hell of a lot of land."
The man shrugged. "It's not so much. Folks in Wyoming call that a farmette."
"How much for a million acres?" I asked.
The man from Wyoming reclined in his chair across from mine. "A dollar an acre," he announced. "A million dollars."
"I'm going to have to pass," I said.
The man cracked a rueful grin. "Fair enough. It's not good land, anyhow."
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