An airbourne Tin Can of tuberculosis

I said I wasn’t going to do it, but here I am, typing on my MacBook Pro while in mid flight to Nashville. Not that there is anything wrong with it at the moment, in fact, the attendant mad the announcement that it was fine to run such items. I just didn’t want to really. I just wanted to sit back, read a bit, perhaps sketch in the little sketchbook that I threw in my computer bag – but if I don’t put this into words I’m going to freak.

Here it is. I must let this serve as a reminder never to fly aboard one of there “express jets” again! This is like flying in a freaking closet above the ground. Not just any closet mind you, but at the moment, one packed with screaming babies and wheezing and sneezing folks that might as well be on their way to a tuberculosis ward!



In fact, sitting right across the aisle from me (let me remind you that this “aisle” is about 12 inches wide – no joke). Is the sickliest motley crew that I’ve encountered in quite some time. Between his hacking cough and her over-the-top gut wrenching sneezes, I feel like auditioning for the lead role in a remake of “The Boy In The Plastic Bubble”.



Ick!!! It’s all I can from knocking their heads together, which I could do from my seat across the aisle while repeating, “cover your fucking mouths!” over and over in a very staccato angry voice.

Hey – I think we may be landing soon.

OK, so now we have landed and I am waiting in the Nashville airport for my brother to pick me up. I’m not sure if he knows where to find me as we were unable to exchange that info. So, I’ll sit here and hope for the best. I really could use cocktail…