The trip to Alaska (plane ride)

Alaska, why did it have to be Alaska?

                For numerous reasons I hate the cold. First reason it’s cold and the second reason is that cold can fucking hurt! Just because my Hungarian blood blended well with Canada to create this super creature writing this blog does not mean that I like the cold. I could live off sweat and sweet tea for the rest of my life. But cold... guh!

zture writing this blog does not mean that I like the cold. I could live off sweat and sweet tea for the rest of my rest

Okay, so maybe blogging this entire trip wasn't a sound idea. And for the most part an improbable part of reality. Despite the painful journey here (will explain more later). I find myself comforted by not only familiar scenery (that of my past residence Canada) but by Beau. I had, in my selfishness forgotten the attentiveness of his affection and as I bask in yeah another comfort of cool cotton sheets. I find myself thinking if a better tomorrow.

Today the world was supposed to end. Rather than freak out I was overcome by the sensation of the ever classic "C'est La Vie" as the French would put it. Because despite my constant and never ending fight with the world, "C'est La vie" is the only way to explain how I feel at the moment. I only seem to find a writer's solace while traveling. Just me and the open night.

Beau shifts in the cotton sheets while I venture on with my writing. The first flight from /Des Moines to Dallas wasn't nearly as painful as the trip the trip to Seattle. I was stuck in the middle of two people how kept poking my love handles and that my friends is not fun. Every five minutes it was a jiggle fest to the ninth degree. Now 4 hours of that was enough to make me think that stepping up my cardio might not be a bad idea.

That and she couldn’t stop making noises. Seriously. Trying to crawl into a novel was very difficult when being poked and noises tend to make me irritable.
I remember looking down at my neighbor’s watching and remarking. “huh, so… it’s past 11 am… how is your apocalypse going? Well? Fantastic.” Everyone around us nervously giggled. I told them not to worry because if we were going out, at least we’d be going in a blaze of glory. That one no found very funny.

The weirdest thing was the outfit I was wearing. First off no one should ever wear tight pants. Period. That alone was a bad idea but “I was afraid that without them my black knee highs would look more like pirate boots if they weren’t. I wore a black sweater and a homemade scarf with a leather jacket. Incognito and fucking classy. My outfit had personality or at least I thought... until I hit Seattle. Then I was just one of the crowd. Blending in… kinda new to me but I embraced it and why not it was like a ‘where’s Waldo scenario’

As I prepared for the next flight, I wondered how different Alaska would be. It seemed to me it was the ultimate place for the great outdoors. I can be woodsy but damn, I stay away from places where things can EAT me. So that means no more trips to L.A for me. I’m going to go to New York eventually but I’m pretty sure it’s as dangerous people wise. Not all airplane rides can be perfect. I always considered purgatory a lot like an airport. A bunch of people kinda stuck together going several different place in several different ways. There can be lay overs and delays but no matter what you always get where you are going.  

So am I getting to where I need to be?