Twenty minutes ago, it was 9:23 a.m. on Friday. Now it is 8:23 p.m. Friday. We are flying over places I don't even recognize as being part of this planet. There is a distinctly cumin-curry-something smell which I originally thought was coming from the other passengers. Now I realize there is the very likely possibility that it is coming from me. I have become one with my pants. I have had probably 5 meals in the last 12 hours. The last one I had was breakfast. That was just after I turned my clock ahead to Friday night.
While I was waiting for the bathroom, I made small talk with a man who was holding his 9 month old daughter. "How is she doing on the flight?" I asked. "Oh. My wife deals with most of it," he replies. "Oooooohhhhhhhh," comes my long, drawn out politically correct response to a completely politically incorrect situation. I find myself again grateful for my husband who is at home with 5 children dealing with not most of it, but all of it.
Good news--it looks like we've passed the Middle East. 8:14 Friday, February 19.
Arabic coffee is really strong.
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