Despite my best intentions to write yesterday, I was consumed with Giblet, and then FlapJilly came home from her first day of summer camp, and then it was time to eat another delicious dinner and tell jokes before the kids went to sleep and Little Cuter drove us to the airport.
We were ridiculously early. The TSA agent wasn't wearing a mask. Neither was anyone else in the nearly empty terminal, so we found a quiet corner and removed ours, as well. It was 9:15pm. The plane wouldn't take off until 11:20...pm... Eastern Daylight Time.
It was 2:40am in that time zone when we landed at Mesa-Gateway.
Our bodies were not amused. Everything aches, on both of us.
The seats were narrower than they had any right to be, and they didn't recline. The drop down table was teeny tiny and the raised seam down the middle made resting your arms and head down an interesting form of torture.
For this, we paid money? - as G'ma would say.
By the time we caught the shuttle to the hotel (no way were we going to drive 2 hours in the dark back to Tucson) and showered and climbed onto the deliciously comfortable bed, it was 3:30 in the morning... no matter what the damn clock in Arizona was mocking us with.
In our youth, we'd save money by taking the red eye. Next time I book us a flight, I'm going to remember the in our youth part.
Yes. Travel arrangements have become more about comfort and less about economy lately. I have noticed that.
ReplyDeleteOur bodies are reminding us of the truth of this statement. I don't bounce back as quickly as I did.
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