On the way home

I'm not usually one to judge by first impressions, but I'm not sure how friendly the passengers at Atlanta airport are. I arrived at my gate a few minutes ago (about an hour before my flight leaves) to find the seats rather crowded (not a huge surprise, but potentially challenging nonetheless). I'm wandering through with a mildly curious, searching look on my face (this look is either Scrunched Up Nose or Wide Eyes and Head Cocked to the Side; the latter is my own case) and am disheartened to see that some people are taking up two seats by sleeping sprawled out. I'm all one for snoozing if you have more than an hour before your flight, but once it starts getting crowded, how about lending someone a seat?

Regardless, I found one, parallel to and slightly facing this one guy with bald head, stocky build, and a sullen, grumpy expression. Clearly he did not get his beauty sleep. Now I may look rebellious, me and my kitschy zebra print shrug, faded blue and green hair, and nose ring, but I'm not that annoying to be around (unless, you know, you're my friend), and I certainly wasn't invading his personal space. Perhaps my water bottle was a smidge too close to his fancy (not) black carry on bag, or he noticed the spattering of what cat hair on my black tank top. Whatever the reason was, after a minute or two he swiftly stood, grabbed his back, and scurried off to a different seat, not three feet away from me.

I showered, I swear! I don't smell funny!

;)

Not seriously though. The employees here have been wonderful so far. I checked my big fat suitcase stuffed with thrift store purchases, the hand-made elephant I named Oglethorpe, and varying other crap I brought with me at one of those outside check-in places. I don't know why more people don't take advantage of the things. There was no line at the particular counter I went to, and I was helped by a charming older man with a spiffy hat and a lovely Georgia accent. “Your gate is A26, Miss Weatherly,” he drawled as he pointed out the circled number on my boarding pass, “Have a nice day.”

It's hilarious. If someone says that in Sacramento, it comes off condescending and fake (Have a nice day? Psh. Up yours, ass hole.), but here, it's just part of the language. Normally I don't like being referred to as Miss, but I made an exception in this case. The friendliness is right up my sweet, charming alley!

Random tangent: An obese woman across from me just polished off a donut with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. I am mildly tempted to offer her my bag of pistachios, but will resist.

Zone 1 is currently boarding. I'm zone 3, so I suspect I'll have to pack up soon.
I got no sleep last night. Maybe an hour or so. I blame the large amount of chocolate and chai tea I consumed last night at 10pm. Silly me. But! Hopefully that means I'll get to sleep a bit on this flight. I'm not really looking forward to the whole butt-goes-numb-after-5-minutes-no-matter-what-position-you-sit-in thing.

~

Hey, here I am on the plane! Amazing. Supposedly there's wi-fi on the plane, but my computer can't seem to access it. Figures. Oh well; it gives me a chance to finish this, do some reading (Happy Yoga, many thanks to Miss Jordan!), and sleep, most importantly. If my ears don't give me much trouble I might be able to nod off.

~

Goddamn I'm gonna get spoiled. The seats on this particular plane are either a hell of a lot more comfortable or the jeans I'm wearing made a shitload of difference. Not only that, but they played a free movie: the new Star Trek film.

Booooyaaaah! I think I like the flight home a lot more than I liked the one to Atlanta. Still can't seem to access the wi-fi properly, but I'm not really sweating it. I think we're somewhere over Nevada at the moment. We should be arriving in San Fran in a little over an hour. I tell you, even though my ass is more comfortable than it could be, it'll still be happy when I get off it. Poor tail bone! It gets so beat up with this silly sitting business.

I suppose I could, you know, not slouch, so I could ease it a little but I would be breaking my facade as an impudent teenager, right? Blue hair and nose ring?

Hehe, rawr!

It's kind of trippy being able to see the map up on the screen. It shows the detail/texture of the landscape (geography/geology junkies care to tell me what that's called? I can't remember), and confirms that indeed, we are flying over a bunch of rocks.

Commonly known as mountains, but they LOOK like a bunch of rocks from way up here.



My bed is calling so sweetly from its location. It's almost like a men's choir serenading me across state lines, and they're all in various states of undress. I suspect I may sprawl most enthusiastically upon it and then promptly fall asleep. Aah, sweet bliss!