Pitstop: Charlotte. Last time I was here was 091101. No wireless here, so this’ll post late. First, I’d like to say how cool I think it is that you can smoke in restaurants down here. I hate the smell but I like the fact that the restaurant owner decides, not the legislature. I also like the fact that (female) bartenders call me “sweetheart” and “honey” and don’t think one whit about it. Now, I married a southern girl (I divorced her, too, but that’s another story) and if there’s one thing you can say about these folks it’s that they’re friendly.
The flight from BOS was painless, on time, and the staff were all very nice. No issues at all. Now let’s see if I make Charleston along with my bag.
I flew coach for the first time in a while, but luckily in an exit row. I had a nice (but confused) fat girl on my left who, between chugs of Sprite and moutfuls of Ginger Snaps, thought it was my job to help her figure out how to get to Orlando. Everything she said she suffixed with “, right?” She needed a lot of reassurance.
The guy on my right was one of those eat-with-your-mouth open types. Noisy eaters drive me crazy – so thankfully he had brought along a sandwich and a sizable bag of corn chips. He also thought he had full rights to both armrests. The flight was short enough that I wasn’t going to argue with him on any of these issues and I knew we were all in collective misery so I dozed.
Bunches of people on the flight were sick and hacking up body juices. Let’s hope my immune system continues its excellent work.