Travel day II: I miss the earth so much. I miss my wife.

Flying is a horrible, nightmarish experience. Today was completely terrifying. Less turbulence than I'd been dreading, but with more than enough cattle-like claustrophobia to go around.

When our ancestors, with their quaint naivete, dreamt of flight, they probably did not conjure images of hundreds of humans arranged like sardines, inhaling each others' plaque, climbing over one another to queue for bathrooms built like carbon-freezing torture chambers. To say nothing of the extroverts! for god's sake... I pray that history will one day get off it's lazy ass and set about remembering Orville and Wilbur Wright as corrupt villains and the sources of untold misery and suffering.

This is true. I sat on the aisle next to two soldiers in civilian clothing, one American, one Italian. They talked shop the whole flight. My favorite line from the American, delivered during an exchange of opinion concerning whether one sports team was or was not better than another sports team: I don't watch sports. Do I look like I watch sports? I'm not a sports person. I'm a killer. Verbatim.