Oh air travel....

So, the pilot on my flight from Salt Lake to Denver had the name of Captain Morgan. Also, they gave us warm chocolate chip cookies. Not pretzels or peanuts.



While standing in line to board, the guy behind me asked if I was from Rexburg also. Nope. Provo. He then proceeded to tell me all the reasons why BYU-Idaho was catching up with BYU. They reached 19,000 students and now have an auditorium. Lovely. Then he told me that since there were so many BYU and BYU-I students that would be on the flight, they should blast EFY music. Oh, dear. Oh, dear, oh dear, oh dear. Poor fellow. Also, while we were boarding, he told me how much he loves the smell of airplanes. Airplanes? Really? When we got to the plane and the flight attendant was making coffee, he realized his horrible, sinful mistake. And was mortified. Next, "Where's your seat?" Oh... shoot. Hopefully not by you, sir. "Uh... 6C." His face fell. Relief. "I'm in row 8." "Enjoy your flight!" I made a beeline for my seat. I was shortly joined by some fellow who only said, "Row 6?" to me. I stood up, let him go in, and he didn't say another word. Not that I minded. He was wearing U of U paraphernalia. BYU-I had to walk by to find a place to put his guitar. He full on glared at U of U.

We got to Denver and all went well. The Denver airport is HUGE. It took me two terminals and an hour to locate hot cocoa. I like hot cocoa. And I had a lot of hours to kill. There was also a place that sold only popcorn... I was alarmed.

Next flight, baby across the isle. She was adorable.

Grand Rapids. IHOP. Muskegon. My toes have been numb ever since and my fingers have been prone to being cold. Cough.

It's pretty lovely to be home.