ON THE PLANE AGAIN

My last official day of vacation.

Tomorrow I have that ridiculous flight home - six hours of a very, very dark plane, drawn window shades, showing a movie you would never have paid money to see play on 57 different 3 x 5.5 inch mini-screens, all of which you don't want to watch, and definitely do NOT want to hear the 39 people who are watching it laugh at the same moment at something that you can't understand unless you are listening on the headsets (only $10 each, no cash, only credit and debit cards accepted - honestly, cash is not welcome)...

All the while you are trying to read your book-club selection of the month by a 25 watt light-bulb six feet above your head but operated by a switch right next to the emergency call button you are not supposed to push until you are giving birth or experiencing heart attack symptom (and in both of those cases, they will calmly advise you to wait until the plane lands and taxis to the terminal before you call 911 on your cell phone).

This is all to keep you from focusing on the fact that you are flying over 2, 251 miles of very lonely, very open and very DEEP Pacific ocean with nothing for miles and miles and miles in any direction (a coincidence that they never show "Lost" episodes on planes? I think not).

But at least they don't feed you on airplanes anymore. Or at least don't feed you anything you could possible want to eat. You can enough caffeinated sodas to keep you awake and running to the broom closet-size toilet every hour on the hour, and I carry a carry-on bag large enough to sneak a small bakery or candy store on board.

But even chocolate will only do so much.

Today - yogurt, Subway sandwich, home-made cannoli (two, actually), popcorn.

And I rode a bicycle tonight - proving that it is true you don't forget things like that. Although I did forget to wear shoes - and the bottom of my feet are more than a little tender tonight.

Tomorrow - all diet bets are temporarily off. I will eat like a junk-food addict, I will drink more Diet Coke that the state of Louisiana produces in a month, and when I finally get into Phoenix right around midnight, I will go to the closest greasy-spoon truck stop and eat nothing but pie.