At 35,000 Feet...

I was exhausted by the time it came to board the plane, but despite how tired I was the 10 hour flight from Newark to São Paulo would be rather eventful. At first I didn't think I was going to make it to my seat without falling asleep. The rest would have been welcome, but it didn't come. Uncle Mark informed me that I should wait until they served us dinner before attempting to shut my eyes, so I headed his warning and waited....and waited....and waited. After about 30 minutes the pilot came over the intercom and informed us that we were number 20 in line for departure and that it would be another 20 minutes or so before we were off the ground. An hour and 10 minutes later (without any further update from the cockpit) we took off.

I had settled into my seat with a good book, and once we had reached our cruising altitude the stewardesses....achmm....I mean flight attendants....brought us our meals. It looked like a nice thick piece of chicken until I stuck my knife into it. Without warning...the chicken collapsed faster than the house that the foolish man built on the sand in Matthew. Precisely one and a half bites later...any evidence that the piece of "meat" had ever existed was gone. Gil Grishom, Mac Taylor and Horatio Cain combined would not have been able to locate any trace of the supposed poultry if their jobs depended on it.

Once the tray was cleared, I shut my eyes and tried to sleep. We thankfully had a bulkhead seat, so there was legroom, but leg room and "posterior" room are two completely different things. I couldn't get comfortable. Hours went by and I went back to my book trying to get drowsy and confuse my mind into thinking that my back and rear were severely uncomfortable. I read another chapter or two and then shut my eyes. By this time almost everyone else on the plane was asleep. I am not sure, but I think I managed to dose off...for 10 miniscule minutes. A girl bumped into my elbow on her way to the bathroom which caused me to wake up, growl and then drifted off again.

All of a sudden I heard a crash. As I opened my eyes, I could see the thin frame of the same girl who had bumped me lying face down in the aisle. I couldn't quite figure what was going on as I was adjusted my eyes to the little bit of light there was in the cabin. I heard one of Aunt Lori's famous gasps and realized that the girl had either fainted or had died right next to me. I poked her arm a few times (her head was literally next to my seat), but she didn't move. Now there were five of us prodding her, with the rest of the plane (minus William) awake due to the commotion that was going on around them. She finally regained consciousness and looked quite dazed and confused as she got up and took a seat in the fight attendant section. They paged anyone who was a doctor on the plane, and a fellow passenger had answered the call and tended to the girls needs. Even though the ruckus eventually died down I was now wide awake.

An hour or so later, a smell permeated the air around me. I couldn't quite figure out where it was coming from until Aunt Lori directed my attention to the man across the aisle from her who apparently had a severe flatulence problem. We aptly named the man "Venus Fly Trap" due to his open mouth breathing technique. I soon came to the conclusion that he had learned to breathe this way to escape his own odor and decided to adapt the technique for myself. I had no idea what time it was. All the windows were closed and the lights were off. I closed my eyes and attempted to doze off yet again. I would have succeeded had it not been for a blinding light that shot through the entire cabin. One passenger decided to awaken the hundreds of sleeping others by opening the window shade. In case any of you have not guessed who that passenger may have been, it was in fact William. I realized my attempt to sleep was futile and decided to read my book for the remainder of the trip. We had reached São Paulo...