Think little jet or, heaven forbid, a freakin' turboprop. I loath those little planes.
I could also be a few rows further back with the upset baby.
Instead, I'm in 9D headed to Dallas for a connection to Albuquerque.
There won't be a plate of decent BBQ to be found.
Of course, I would have the aisle seat with Sir Peesalot sitting by the window. We've been up and down six times now in the first hour.
We could be on our way to some sort of urinary record on a plane.
Say it ain't so! The peeps in first class had to eat big chocolate chip cookies. That is just so wrong.
Raisin would be better.
Meanwhile, Headphone Boy just invaded the first class cabin to use their bathroom. I expect an air marshal to intervene soon.
I believe a Nazi war criminal must have designed this seat. Or the Marquis de Sade. It creaks as though it were made of plywood, and that's about how it feels.
Oddly, this plane has blankets, and I've snagged a few to provide some lumbar and neck support. Tassel Boy across the aisle has done the same thing.
I wonder when it'll be time to pee again.
-- Posted from a mobile device