On my way from Milwaukee to Des Moines, we flew on a prop plane. As a relatively calm individual, who enjoys turbulence when flying, I was not at all concerned about the plane. It had two seats in each row with a walk way in between them--nice and cozy. I was in the third row, with a girl about my age across the aisle. In the front row were two ( Read more... )

There's something about airports that makes me want to retire to the bar until my --inevitably late-- departure. Is that normal? Something about airports screams at me, "You need a drink or two to make it out alive!!" I think it has always been this way--let's not go blaming the terrorists for my need for a cocktail hour, that would be ( Read more... )