Home again, home again, jiggity, jig, jig

The flight on the way to Tucson was long, loud, and otherwise, not so bad. Doug had a terrible neighbor who smelled not-so-fresh and didn't understand the concept of letting your neighbor read. Doug was reading Eragon.

Neighbor: Have you seen the movie yet?

Doug (not looking up): No.

Neighbor: Oh. Well, . . .

Doug: Well, I heard bad things about the movie.

The neighbor got the hint and left well enough alone. The tiny hole in the fuselage, however, did not get the hint. The highest pitch detectable by human ears roared for the majority of the flight, threatening to deafen all of us by touchdown. Thankfully, we changed air speed or altitude or something and my hearing was spared.

We arrived in Tucson safe and sound, even if we did smell a little like Doug's neighbor. I met a new friend in the airport while waiting for Doug to use the men's room.

New friend: Excuse me, ma'am, but were you reading Atlas Shrugged back at the airport?

Me: Oh! Yes, I was.

New friend: I just wondered, because I'm reading The Fountainhead and I wondered what you thought about Ayn Rand.

Me: Well, I haven't read any of her other books, but so far, she's very thought-provoking. I really like her.

New friend: Yeah. . . I'm kicking myself now because all through college, people kept telling me to read her books and I just figured she was one of those people intellectuals were told they should like. I wish I would have listened then. I just saw her name on Wikipedia the other day and decided I should give her a try. I'm sure glad I did.

That was the gist of it, but it proves the point that I can talk to anyone, anywhere, about almost anything. How do I, of all people, meet a new friend in the airport based off of the book I happen to be reading? Who is John Galt?

So. . . back to our trip. . .

Doug and I spent the weekend amongst family and had a good time catching up on things. Olivia gave a very touching eulogy that had all of us in tears. I didn't even really know Lilly all that well, but I was still sad she was gone. We met new wives and husbands, new grandbabies and puppies. We ate a lot and laughed a lot. We comforted each other and generally enjoyed the good company.

On the way home, however, I sat in front of the most vile human I have ever come into contact with. He was somewhere between 16-20 and hadn't bathed in a few days to be sure. Somewhere over El Paso, I noticed that the scent of BO somehow blended delicately with ammonia. Hmmm. . . Never mind the source of his stench.

I felt something bump my elbow and moved my arm to see what it was. A yellow-socked foot was touching me. It wasn't yellow because the kid was wearing an argyle sweater in shades of beige – it was yellow because it was filthy. I cringed, withdrew my elbow, and tried not to think about it. He wiggled and kicked and dug his toes into the underside of my seat. Most unpleasant.
Evidently, the vile creature was warm on the flight. The next time something bumped my elbow, I turned to see what it was and was greeted with a yellow, fungus-ridden big toe – sockless and touching me. I shuddered, scowled, and vowed not to look again. Somehow or another, I looked and almost vomited in my tiny bag of pretzels. I managed to endure the rest of the flight without turning around, but the image of that toe haunted me until I was safe in my scalding shower, killing the tiny germs that had invaded my personal bubble.

All things considered, even the fungus-ridden toe, the trip was well worth the effort. Perhaps, sometime in the near future, Doug and I can take a trip that doesn't involve smelly neighbors.