...minnesota?...

Sono sull'aereo, er, nell'aereo volando por Minnesota. Sono seduto in un poltrone e bebo l'acqua in una bicciere plastico.

Okies, I'm stopping with the italian now. It's probably wicked miscongugated and incorrect anyhow. But yes, I'm on the plane to the Midwest, flying over massive amounts of farmland in squares, and yes, it does look rather quiltish, indeed. The plane ride should be over rather soon, methinks. Which is good, because I rather have to use the lavatory. I'm in the window seat (yay!), but that means that I'd have to climb over two people, one of whom is asleep (oh noes!) just to get to the icksicle aereo lavs. No, gracias. Oops, I meant grazie. Guh...this flight has been horrid boring...

We're descending now, the ground approaches. It is undeniably flat and there are far too many lakes. Ugh. Suburbia. Identical little suburbanites in their identical houses live identical lives. Pools glitter blue in backyards and it is the very image of the Midwestern Mediocrity that I hate and fear so much. We have not even landed but already I am screaming. I could never live here.

Soon enough we're at the airport, coasting above the runway, seemingly reluctant to touch down and end the flight. We are coming closer to the airstrip, and I am remembering how, when I was younger, I could anticipate the moment that we landed exactly. Three, two, we hit the ground as I say 'one'. I smile and my inner self tosses her hair. Still got it.