Jet Laggin' Ya'll

Well, this might be a change of pace for Mike's blog, but then again - I ain't Mike so I imagine that's ok.

If you don't know me already, I'm Mike's brother. My blog is here.

So the first part of this week (Monday through yesterday) I spent traveling to and from Boston, with a small slice of actually being in Boston in between.

My head feels like it's filled full of cotton candy or some other light and fluffy substance other than grey matter (or whatever it is that I have passsing for a brain these days).

Why is it that sitting still for 5 and a half hours is so frickin' exhausting? I got a pretty good night's sleep before heading out, and yet I was pretty much useless upon arrival. Dinner was about all I was good for.

The next day, I felt like I'd been up for 24 hours or more. My boss handed the map to me to help navigate, and honestly - I couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was like, "Umm, there are some lines, and some words...and that's about all I can decipher".

Thankfully I didn't have to do a huge amount of talking.

Yesterday I woke up feeling almost 100%, and the day went really well. It was capped off with a 5 and a half hour flight back home, and here I am feeling pretty well out of it again.

WTF?

Speaking of wtf, when on earth did it become ok to offer nothing but a sandwich or a snack box on a cross-continent flight? Not only that, I have to pull cash out of my pocket to pay for the honor of receiving said sandwich and / or snack box.

WTF???

Ok, so let me get this straight. They can fly thousands of planes to all these locations every single day, with a pretty respectable on time record, and with a much safer experience than getting behind the wheel of a car. But...I have to pay out of pocket for a sandwich? Excuse me, you assholes, but please - build my food into the cost of the flight. I'd bring food with me, but it's enough to get myself and my baggage onto the plane, let alone build the time for getting food together for the flight into the process.

I was lucky enough to have a non-middle seat both ways, with no one in said middle seat either. Those things are squeezed so friggin close together that it's almost impossible to not sit there touching the person next to you for the entire flight. God forbid the person should be large.

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Okay, enough with the bitching. Boston's an awesome town, and I'll write some more about that soon over on my blog type place of residence.