Coming Home
In 6 weeks, I will be taking a red-eye flight from Los Angeles to Manchester.
Probably have a couple hours layover in a U.S. city along the way.
I will be tired from trying (and failing) to get sleep on the plane.
I will be smelly from walking around multiple airports over a span of 12 hours in the same clothes.
I will be restless in an aisle seat, waiting for my planes to take off and land.
I will be anxious in the stuffy shared air as my fellow passengers and I tap our fingers and our feet in anticipation.
We will politely push and shove each other out of our way like cattle out of a cage.
