A Wing and a Scare

Written on Westjet flight 400-and-something
July 7; 7:05 a.m..

I'm in a plane right now.
It's flying without my help.
It's hard to concentrate because I'm on the wing.
I'm always on the wing.
This gives me something to whine about because:
A) it's the loudest seat to sit in.
B) if the engine suddenly falls off, it's my responsibility to stand up and yell:
"The engine just fell off of the plane!"
Which makes me look like the bad guy.
I watched Toy Story 3. It was good.
But it was in 3D, so when it was over I had to go back to perceiving things the way I usually perceive them.
Bland.
I hate the guy sitting next to me.
And he didn't even do anything.
Except sit next to me.
I guess that's enough.
Sitting on a plane is like sitting on other vessels; you desperately don't want anyone sitting next to you.
Unless it's one of those Hawaiian Tropic girls.
Babes.
They prefer to be called babes.
There are so many people sleeping right now.
I should do my "the engine just fell off the plane!" line now.
For practice.