Same day, I just didn’t want to post any more yesterday.
1:01pm – Houston time.
Dammit. Same freakin’ sized plane, same rock hard seat. How the hell can these seats be used as floatation devices? Are they styrofoam? What they aren’t is comfortable. Give me a seat that doesn’t numb my ass in the first half hour of the flight, and I’ll take my chances with drowning.
I read a book for the remainder of the trip.
A little turbulance, but nothing like the first part of the trip.
Looking around at my fellow passengers, I’ve decided flying in these small planes is like riding in a Greyhound bus. In the sky. At least it’s faster than taking a bus.
2:30 pm – Nashville time
Arrived fine. The air is thick and smells odd, but it’s good to be done with flying for a week.
It’s odd. I’m seriously afraid of heights, but I’m not afraid of flying. I had a window seat for the first flight, and I watched the scenery for most of the trip. Even when the plane would bank left and I was looking almost straight down I was fine. Not even a flutter of fear. No real anxiety at take-off or during landing.
I just don’t like to fly.
4:00pm
That’s it. I need to do something about my weight. The mortician is large. Wide large. Wobbles a bit while walking. He seems like a very nice fellow, and I’m not being mean when I mention his size. He knows how big he is.
When we were talking about the flight in, he looked at me and said, “Those seats just aren’t made for big fellas like us.”
Ouch.
