Coming Home

It’s usually a good feeling to be coming home after a trip. I’ve had a good time in Tampa, but I’m a bit of a homebody. There are some places I can be for prolonged periods of time. I never want to leave Colorado, for instance. Hanging out with my in-laws, who leave right by Destin, is another example. But usually I’m ready to come home after two days of being away.

My biggest problem is flying. I’m no pansy, but I HATE flying. As soon as the engines rev up, I get this odd feeling, as if something in my mind and body is telling me that this is simply not natural. We’re not supposed to be flying. Birds fly. Bats fly. Mosquitoes fly. Flies…fly. Humans do not fly! But I am made to fly, although I have nothing to do with it. I simply sit there, perspire, and wonder why I’m clumped together so tightly with complete strangers.

I have to pass the time by reading, messing with my DS, or listening to something on my iPod. It distracts me, but I always freak out a bit when we come in for a landing.

Today Shari and I board here in Tampa at about 12:50 ET. Then we have a FIVE-HOUR LAYOVER in Memphis. Five hours in one of the most miserable airports in America. I have no idea how we’re going to fill that time. Thankfully our friend Jason Avant is picking us up in Shreveport at 9:00, so we don’t have to spend an extra $32 or so on parking

.I’m just praying for fast, smooth flights and a seat next to my wife in the front/middle of the plane.


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