Wednesday, February 6, 2008

The Bloody Mary glass is half empty

Well, here I am, cruising at 500 miles per hour, at an altitude of 33,000 feet (I know this because the pilot has informed us of this over the static-y intercom not once, not twice, but three times—in both English and Spanish—within the past forty minutes, along with the current temperature—72 degrees—and our landing time, 11:25 am) en route to Old San Juan, Puerto Rico. I am in a particularly crotchety mood today, having been startled out of a somewhat peaceful slumber by a medium-sized black bear foraging for berries in my bedroom at 2:30 am, and causing quite a ruckus, I might add. Ok, so it wasn’t a black bear precisely—I sometimes tend to exaggerate a tad—but rather, I was rattled awake by Jerry’s snoring (which, in my defense, at the time honestly did sound like a bear may have somehow gotten into the house. Hey, we had a groundhog sleeping like a newborn baby in the living room once; anything is possible.) Anyway, either I’m sleeping lighter, or he’s snoring louder, but it’s now 8:01 am, and I have already been up for five and a half hours, which explains: 1. my prickly mood, 2. the Bloody Mary sitting in front of me, despite the fact that most Americans are standing in line at Starbucks waiting for their Grande House Blend at this hour, and, 3. the somewhat irrational (I admit) desire to punch our pilot in the brain run madly up and down the aisle, arms flailing, and eyes bulging in classic Looney Tunes fashion, shouting "What in the bloody world do I have to do to get some peace and quiet for Heaven's sake???" if he gets back on that blasted intercom to tell us one more time—in English, Spanish, Urdu, Swahili, or any other language he might pull out of his captains hat—the cruising speed, altitude, or ground temperature at any point between now, and when we touch down at his thrice promised 11:25 am landing time.

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