Ok, I hate flying more than ever. Before blogging, I gave the following report via blackberry to my friends while I was in the San Franscisco airport some months ago.  It was a turning point in my view of air travel as a pleasant means of getting from point A to B.

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There is a woman walking around with a pillow. A full sized pillow with a case that has a pattern of small flowers. She is our age. I see her point but I am not wearing my jammies and fluffy slippers.

Did you know that wheel chairs come in LARGE now? I wish that I could read a book but I am too uptight and stressed. All I want to do is get on that plane and drift off to sleep.

Oooohh, give me a seat boys, come free my soul, I wanna get lost in my reclining seat and drift away. Music fades.

There is a screaming child. A screaming child on a red eye. Excuse me while I throw myself onto the tarmac.

I am freezing in this airport and other people are wearing thin clothes. I know it’s California, but it was cold and wet today in San Francisco.

I have to go to the bathroom but it has probably gotten too much use today and maybe I’ll wait and be the first on the plane to use. It is a delicate balance.

Should I ask the man across the seats why he picks his nose so blatantly and then rubs his discovery on his pants?  Maybe I can borrow his books. Noooooo.

Baby’s cryin’ and my patience is all gone…. Oh, S. Frisco. (As in JT’s “Mexico”).