Fly Away, Fly Away, Fly Away....Home?

I've spent the past few days packing and re-packing, making in readiness to fly from here to San Jose. British Air has some new baggage rules, that they have apparently changed since they came out with the "new" rules last month. Anyway, I keep packing stuff, then deciding I really don't need this, that or the other thing. I have to spend the first night in London at Gatwick Airport. whee Then the next morning I fly to Dallas-Ft. Worth and then on to San Jose.

I got tense the other day reading a message board on MSN about readers' worst flying experiences. It immediately brought to mind the last time I flew. That flight was a real treat....not one or two, but FIVE crying children in my immediate vicinity for seven solid hours. The seats were the smallest seats I think I have ever been in and of course, the jerk in front of me threw his seat ALLLLLLL the way back so the little TV screen whatchamacallit was literally six inches from my face. Nice.

Back in the old days when I rarely flew anywhere, I experienced the strange coincidence that three times in a row when I flew I was seated next to a nun. Not that that's a bad thing....I just thought it was remarkable and wondered if there was a message from God there for me somehow. Now I'm wondering what I can do to conjur up a nun to be my seatmate.

After some of the extraordinarily stinky people, howling children, and other assorted miscreants I've had the displeasure to sit next to, I'm praying that my flight across the Atlantic is a charter flight full of nuns going to a nun convention. Do they have such things? Lord, I hope so. I know I won't be that lucky, however. I'm sure I'm in for a non-nun.

Sally Field, where are when I need you????