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Flight 1973

It's always a crap shoot on a plane. You may get that perfect flight where people fit in the 3 (sometimes 2) seats and there are no issues at all. Things just fit. Or you may feel like the human version of Tetris. Arms and elbows knees and what not all contorted and twisted. When that happens, about the best you can do is remind yourself that it's a short flight (even if it isn't). And sometimes your plans to be the mile high blogger are waylaid by something as seemingly insignificant as the fact the in-flight wi-fi is down.

sometimes you cant even use the tray table at all because it's just too fucking awkward.

and that's ok. As humans we find ways of adapting. And in the grand scheme of things, this really is no big deal. I have no illusions of grandeur in this situation. I know that I'm not going to pen the next great American novel at 10,000 feet on an iPad Mini in turbulent skies (but it would be pretty fucking cool if I did).

I have to say that the LifeProof case is proving to be quite a bit more versatile in this kind of setting. I took a picture. that I'll post when i actually copy this over in the blog posting software.


Speaking of software. I have to admit that the OmmWriter software for iPad does not disappoint. I was a little hesitant based on some of the reviews. But most of them were based on the fact that people were trying to use the on-screen keyboard. That always cracked me up. I can't imagine using the one screen keyboard for anything more than a tweet or quick hit FB post. I have to have tactile response. I have to feel the keys actually give way under my fingers.

I hope you weren't expecting anything deep in this post. I'm too contorted for anything but random quick hits. And besides that damn drink cart is about to bump my elbow.

My rowmate is giving the tell tale fidgetings of one who is about to excuse himself to go to the lav. We'll see. If he reads this as I'm typing, no harm no foul, eh?

Holy shit. 39,000 feet. I don't know if I've been that high or not. I probably have, I don't recall many of the captains actually telling you how high you are, though. So, there's that.

My co-worker is out. The window serving as the make-shift pillow and the've just given the 'ding you can now move about the cabin' all clear.

And holy shit do I have to fart. I thought I would be safe with the grilled cheese. Apparently not. Don't worry. I'm an expert flatulator. Nothing will escape unless a) its safe or b) I can blame it on someone else (which really is pretty much the same thing as 'a').

It looks like only the left side is getting snacks. Maybe he's just going up and back. Annnnd. Success. He was going up from the back, wrapping around and back again. I'm now the proud owner of 2 little packs of pretzel. Pretty sure Southwest is one of the only ones that still gives you snacks. Sure--they've gotten smaller, but that's ok. It really is the thought that counts.

I really wish I had done more writing last night. It's gonna be weird to blog about the last New York Trip whilst on this one. Last week was such a fuster cluck though.

When it's a full week at the store, I think it works better. My mind is conditioned for that for some reason. Flying out Sunday and coming home on Tuesday was just...odd. And then going back to work on Wednesday was just goofy to me. Not in the sense that I didn't want to go to work (truth be told I could have caught up on some sleep), but moreover, because of the normal way the trips have been flowing, it felt like it should have been a monday.

Damn, they're jamming the shoulder and they don't even have a fucking drink cart.

OK...where was I? Oh yes...brain thinking it's Monday. I guess that's the part that's really that days really don't have much of a meaning in the sense that one day truly is like the next. Fridays stand out because of the bowling, Thursdays because of the Advocare Nutritional mixers. But other than that, really things just kind of blend. I don't know really how to describe it. I don't watch network TV or cable, so I am not bound by identifying a day of the week by which of my shows is on. So..meh. I don't know.

I am not really sure where I was going with that other than to say that normally I come back from a store trip and have 2 days to rest and then back to work and that's how I mark the beginning of the week. And last week it wasn't that way. Kinda messed me up, I guess.

But I'll live.

I mean, that's what we do, right? Live. Adapt. Survive. And if we tap in to that still, small voice, we actually find our light in this vast universe. We find our way to hear the chords of our song and if we're very very lucky, we get to find someone to play that some for that gets it.

That's the shit right there when that happens.

As it turns out, I was right about my row-mate. I didn't really have to pee (I mean, I did, but I could have held it until LaGuardia), but I got up to hit the lavatory anyway. I noticed as I was again doing my cirque du soleil act, that he also got up and was waiting in queue for me to finish. More often than not, I would rather be happy than right, but it does feel good to know that I have a pretty decent knack for reading people.

And he's a beekeeper. Or wants to be. Or has to read a book about it for some class. Not sure which. Make up a story. Here's the book he left on the seat. You take it from there and run with it.

1100 words...and most of them just inane babbling. What makes me smile is that the 15 or so of you that regularly make your way here actually enjoy reading it. I have to be honest, that kind of floors me, truth be told.

I think there are those who get in to writing as a career. They see the financial potential and just go with with. And then there are those that get in to writing because it's the only way to get their head clear, even for a moment. And for those people, the fact that people enjoy what they write is a by product. I haven't been paid for my writing. I may one day pen that quintessential best-seller, but that's not why I write. I write because I have to. Because there are things in my head that if they don't come out on the page, I literally go bat-shit crazy in small doses. And if those doses add up enough, I do something completely insane like show up to work on a winters, pants, winter coat. No socks. It was not a good day. For a long time after, I kept a spare shirt and socks in my file cabinet drawer on the off chance that my brain-bucket went to auto-pilot without me.

But that's how I knew I REALLY needed to be writing. I was going through some shite. 1st divorce...job I really couldn't stand (I could tell it was sucking my soul). And I snapped. Granted, it was a small snap, but a snap nonetheless. From that I wrote an autobiography up to that point in my well as a book about job satisfaction.

To my current co-workers, please don't go looking in my file drawers. Said Shirtless Monday happened in 1999. I've pretty much learned when I'm starting to lose my grip these, we're all good.

We're about to land, so this is as good a place as any I suppose to conclude these airborne ramblings.

Peace out yo,




PostScript: I'm in the hotel room now (the Holiday Inn...which really blows compared to the Springhill Suites)...but on the way from LaGuardia to the Avis facility I noticed this in the shuttle....'s exactly what you think it is. A coat hanger fashioned in to a slim jim. To unlock cars. Not sure what it's doing in the rental car shuttle. But, what a scam...ride the shuttle from LGA to Avis...boost a car....crazy...


Alright. I've done my traction for the night...and the TENS units. Time for some sleep. Today turned out to be quite a long day.



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