AU Summer: Red eye to Seattle
I've never been much of a plane person. I'm not a fan of flying thousands of feet in the air, confined to a metal cage full of screaming children, unattentive parents, and rude business travelers. Give me a cab or the subway or a long car trip, and I'm just fine.
Planes are small metal cages with no escape, messy, dirty cages. Mom says I feel like this because I'm addicted to the control surgery gives me. I really can't disagree with that.
So the fact that I'm flying across the country again for this woman should say something.
I thought about stopping at that little bar by Addison's hospital, just on the off-chance that I'd see her, but I once I got to the hotel I knew there was no chance I'd be leaving here until tomorrow. Addison wouldn't be in a seedy little bar like that anyway, at least New York-Addison wouldn't. Seattle-Addison, I don't know. I still can't believe she's out here. Of course, I can't believe I'm sitting in a hotel in Seattle when I'd normally be asleep in my apartment by now.
Technically, I am here for work, but what's a few details between friends? A family wants one of the best plastic surgeon in the States for craniofacial surgery, and here I am. It's amazing that the best plastic surgeons are now concentrated on the East Coast rather than the West. It really tells you something about shifting demographics, but it's way too late to go into that.
I guess if we're going by Seattle time it's not that late, but the jet-lag is hell. It's after 2:00 am in New York and it's a struggle to just keep typing, but I need to finish checking the emails for updates on my post-op patients back home. It'll be a miracle if any of the residents or other attendings don't kill someone or mangle their face before I get back.
Time to shut this computer down, I've got an early start tomorrow, and I need to find a diner that serves scrambled eggs before I check in with the Chief. Now that should be fun.
Planes are small metal cages with no escape, messy, dirty cages. Mom says I feel like this because I'm addicted to the control surgery gives me. I really can't disagree with that.
So the fact that I'm flying across the country again for this woman should say something.
I thought about stopping at that little bar by Addison's hospital, just on the off-chance that I'd see her, but I once I got to the hotel I knew there was no chance I'd be leaving here until tomorrow. Addison wouldn't be in a seedy little bar like that anyway, at least New York-Addison wouldn't. Seattle-Addison, I don't know. I still can't believe she's out here. Of course, I can't believe I'm sitting in a hotel in Seattle when I'd normally be asleep in my apartment by now.
Technically, I am here for work, but what's a few details between friends? A family wants one of the best plastic surgeon in the States for craniofacial surgery, and here I am. It's amazing that the best plastic surgeons are now concentrated on the East Coast rather than the West. It really tells you something about shifting demographics, but it's way too late to go into that.
I guess if we're going by Seattle time it's not that late, but the jet-lag is hell. It's after 2:00 am in New York and it's a struggle to just keep typing, but I need to finish checking the emails for updates on my post-op patients back home. It'll be a miracle if any of the residents or other attendings don't kill someone or mangle their face before I get back.
Time to shut this computer down, I've got an early start tomorrow, and I need to find a diner that serves scrambled eggs before I check in with the Chief. Now that should be fun.