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Right Plane, Wrong Seat

This is going to be the beginning of a great post, I don’t know why I just thought that but I did and now you get to read part of my thoughts, anyways moving on...years ago when I studied at a college that was located precisely 24 hours away from home I picked up a new hobby: flying. I love flying not just because I’m freaky fast at taking a belt off my pants and sliding off my shoes through a conveyor belt but because I love traveling to new destinations, exploring sights and watching the world from the skies as I ponder every single place I could visit to create lasting memories (I’m also addicted to people watching but secretly I think that’s everyone else’s hobby too). On this particular flight heading home for the holidays I ruined my chances of getting a full night’s worth of rest due to playing video games and watching movies. With what seemed like time for only a nap I was dropped off at the airport ready to head home.

Passport? Check. Luggage? Check. Headphones in your ears for no reason other than to let people know I can’t be talked to at the moment? Check. My head was running through the list of making sure I had everything with me. I’m definitely one of those weird people that suddenly panics thinking that somehow my ticket printed off as Chris Tood and now it won’t match my I.D. So I role play the conversation of how I’m going