Up on high
There is nothing better to me than flying. I love to fly in a way that is a complete antithesis to the average person who finds flying some horrifying experience akin to jumping across a volcano for fun. I find my window seat. Sit down and pass out for 50 minutes to 10 hours and I just chill the hell out.
What I dislike about flying is the airport. Actually I didn’t mind the airport that much until the woman next to me decided to call her friend and loudly and obnoxiously complain about how awful her watery queso was for her chips. “Literally, unbelievable” that’s what she keeps saying about her fucking queso dip. She’s going to write her friend who apparently has the stellar position of being high up in the California Tortilla hierarchy, to tell her about her displeasure with the fucking queso.
Flying should be calming. Flying shouldn’t lead to violence. Flying should make me want to toss my filet o fish at the woman with her fucking queso dip complaints. Not to mention the fact that she’s not only complaining about the damn dip, but also doing so with her mouth open. Damn BWI, once again not being up to par for the masses and their need for high quality queso dip.
I’m just going to sit here, relax, and think of flying.
*Penned today at 3:57 PM from the B terminal in Baltimore/Washington International airport.