There's that time of year - which can be any time of year - I want to drop everything, have someone take over my responsibilities and feel as free as the wind.
During childhood this is known as the running-away-to-join-the-circus syndrome. During adulthood it's known as fantasy - fantasy that's fed by the get-away ads for Southwest Airlines.
Because there's no first class on Southwest - no comfortable section where you're given cashews instead of peanuts - the perfect seat for me would be an aisle seat, two seats away from an emergency exit and on the right side of the plane (as opposed to the wrong side) to see the landmarks pointed out by the captain.
I realize that was a run-on sentence. Obviously, the desire to run away has permeated my subconscious.
Nevertheless, the perfect seatmate for me would be a nun - one of God's stewardesses on the flight through life. However, if an oversized, nervous flyer is on the flight, he'll sit next to me.
Damn! Reality, as it always does, just robbed me of my fantasy. It's just another full, knees-to-chest, no-arm-room flight from here to there.
On these flights I watch as the flight attendants demonstrate how to use the various safety devices. The only time this demonstration made me nervous was when the captain watched it too.
My choice of reading material is always one of the wrinkled, page-missing, gossip magazines. If I don't finish reading it on the flight, I can finish reading it two months later in a doctor's waiting room.
Being the mother of two children, I learned early in my flighty life that a lavatory schedule is a must. I've discovered that just before the beverage service and an hour before landing are the most time-effective times. Otherwise, I and six or seven other passengers are part of the lavatory skyline.
If there's a movie, I watch it - even if I've seen it before. My neighbor's home videos would look good when I'm bored at thirty-two thousand feet. When I'm on a plane I never find myself complaining that time passes too quickly.
I'm so eager for the plane to land, I find myself looking forward to waiting - and waiting - and hopefully getting - my luggage at the carousel. Whoever said, "A fool and his money are soon parted" must have been foolish enough to pack his wallet in his luggage.
During childhood this is known as the running-away-to-join-the-circus syndrome. During adulthood it's known as fantasy - fantasy that's fed by the get-away ads for Southwest Airlines.
Because there's no first class on Southwest - no comfortable section where you're given cashews instead of peanuts - the perfect seat for me would be an aisle seat, two seats away from an emergency exit and on the right side of the plane (as opposed to the wrong side) to see the landmarks pointed out by the captain.
I realize that was a run-on sentence. Obviously, the desire to run away has permeated my subconscious.
Nevertheless, the perfect seatmate for me would be a nun - one of God's stewardesses on the flight through life. However, if an oversized, nervous flyer is on the flight, he'll sit next to me.
Damn! Reality, as it always does, just robbed me of my fantasy. It's just another full, knees-to-chest, no-arm-room flight from here to there.
On these flights I watch as the flight attendants demonstrate how to use the various safety devices. The only time this demonstration made me nervous was when the captain watched it too.
My choice of reading material is always one of the wrinkled, page-missing, gossip magazines. If I don't finish reading it on the flight, I can finish reading it two months later in a doctor's waiting room.
Being the mother of two children, I learned early in my flighty life that a lavatory schedule is a must. I've discovered that just before the beverage service and an hour before landing are the most time-effective times. Otherwise, I and six or seven other passengers are part of the lavatory skyline.
If there's a movie, I watch it - even if I've seen it before. My neighbor's home videos would look good when I'm bored at thirty-two thousand feet. When I'm on a plane I never find myself complaining that time passes too quickly.
I'm so eager for the plane to land, I find myself looking forward to waiting - and waiting - and hopefully getting - my luggage at the carousel. Whoever said, "A fool and his money are soon parted" must have been foolish enough to pack his wallet in his luggage.
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