14 January 2020

Farting on a Plane...a Victimless Crime

Let me tell you about compression socks. Probably unnecessary and make your feet sweat. Flight is an hour delayed, but somehow we will get to Heathrow at the scheduled time.

I got to use my kitchen Spanish to communicate with a Portuguese girl on the flight. She was impressed..probably more so because Americans don’t speak any other languages—but I’ll take it. I may have somehow miraculously gotten my verb tenses correct. I told her how I changed my major a bunch a’times, and was once a Biology major, just like currently is...por un ano, solamente.

As for the flight. I opted to skip dinner and sample the wine. On the first sip, I Poured my cup back into the bottle and shook it vigorously.

May the lord never again punish me with this abomination committed against his beloved grape.


We arrive at Heathrow at 8:35am.

Oh one more thing. I skipped dinner (and frankly had almost no breakfast or lunch in trying to prepare for the flight). Then in that 2 hours it took waiting for the NDMU people to show up, I opted not to eat...Needless to say by the time of the flight, there were pangs of hunger going unfulfilled...the result was lower intentional distress. My tummy was not happy. In fact, the lower gastro-intestinal tract became quite vocal...thankfully just auditory and not olfactory emissions were expelled. Let's just say that there was action for the entire 6-hour flight.