First, to my right, someone has plowed the sky.
To my left, two enticements.
The one in Suite 22ABC needs a snuggle bunny. And someone should lower that window so his cords would show up better.
In Suite 23ABC, I would do so well as the peanut butter, even if they are a little wiggly.
The butch attendent woke up cord boy to eat his bagel while she was bringing my catered breakfast.
I wonder who tossled his hair.
Breakfast today is just what my sad tummy needs.
Salty stuff and coke.
Meanwhile, the cute fellow in the seat in front of me who was ever so friendly to me in the airport with a wink and a smile is now he leaning into his female traveling companion.
Did I turn him straight, or might she be his beard?
We might never know, what with my propensity to shut down conversation on airplanes.
Meanwhile, is not two and three hours of sleep a night sufficient punishment? Do you really need for me to roll over half awake, scratch the itch on my hand, and pull out a plug?
I mean, come on! The on-going torture of Jim should be sufficient. Why do you need to leave the sheets in such a condition that the poorly paid ESL gal has to change them after one night?