Stuff I've dug up.
Here's an excerpt from a diary entry I wrote on today's date 11 years ago. I was 21.
11-22-00
The air. En route to Arkansas for Thanksgiving.
The gods of air travel have seated me next to a woman who is continually and most pitiably ralphing into barf bag after barf bag, her two infant sons squalling ceaselessly all the while.
At any rate, I'm headed home for Thanksgiving. Let's hope the little domestic tableau to my right isn't a harbinger of things to come. Thanksgiving is obviously the least unpleasant of the big holidays. It's certainly better than Christmas, which always has entirely too much hope riding on it to be anything but a complete failure year in, year out. But Thanksgiving? Just a friendly bit of gluttony.
I forgot to mention that I'm seated quite near the lavatory, where someone just perpetrated some foul-smelling deed.
And now our aircraft has met with some turbulence.
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