December 1: Flying

It was a scene right out of our younger days. On the way to pick up Nathan for the airport, it was Mom and Dad in the front seats of the car and me in the back. A few minutes later we were chatting with the Slaters inside their kitchen as both sets of parents felt the need to reiterate the same message to their 29-year-old sons: No Sex. No Drugs. To this, Nathan and I responded, "Then what's the point of going?"

The short flight from Phoenix to Los Angeles began with a bit of a laugh. Apparently, a gentleman sitting in the emergency exit row didn't speak English, and had to be switched out for safety concerns. The flight attendant asked for a volunteer to which there was no response. Finally, Nathan raised his hand, effectively killing the idea of us sitting together. Smiling, I mumbled under my breath, "You asshole." Then, realizing that, yes, he would have to switch seats with the man, Nathan announced, "Actually, nevermind. I want to sit with my buddy. I thought you were just looking for a backup." A backup? Beyond that, the rest of our time spent in the air was rather uneventful. Neither Nathan nor I are particularly fond of flying, but passing above the polar ice caps, both of us, several rows apart, managed to slip blissfully away into sleep on the juggernaut flight from L.A. to Hong Kong, and again from Hong Kong to Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC). Thanks, Valium!

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