Going to Lincoln

I hate having to pack for a weekend plane trip. I really do not like having to check a suitcase through FAA Gestapo checkpoints the airlines if it is only the small amount needed for three days. You also have to wait for what seems like an hour after you land while the ground crew unloads all the luggage and brings them on those conveyors to the main luggage retrieval carousels. Although, I guess it is one of life's little ironies that they are called carousels, considering the entire airport scene these days is, in fact, a clown circus.

Have you ever noticed those overhead bins are round at the top due to the shape of the fuselage? I also hate having to try to cram something larger than a true carry-on into those overhead bins. Square pegs into round holes. It didn't work in pre-school, and it ain't working now.

Although, now that I come to think of it, being on a plane is not unlike kindergarten. You get the federally mandated insult to your intelligence where they feel they must explain to you how a seat belt works. And you only get 3 ounces of gel in clear plastic baggies, because with 4 ounces, you might hurt yourself or others. You also get a pillow for nappy time, and the little cart comes around full of cookies and Koolaid Coke and pretzels, and you only get half the can of Coke.

Maybe if I work and play well with others, I can get the whole can of Coke.

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