ah, going to america

well, as previously stated, i like to wait to comment on things until after they happen.
man, america was nice. getting there was a bit of a chore. first of all, no matter which way you slice it, a 13 hour plane ride is not going to be fun. at all. now add to that a flight attendant who, with almost deadshot accuracy, manages to hit the arm of my chair every time she wheels her cart down the aisle AND a child of 5 or so sitting in right next to me. now, i know what you're going to say, you're going to say, " luke, there's nothing inherently wrong with 5 year old!"
screw that! there's something inherently wrong with you for saying that!
i work with kids in that age group all day, 5 days a week. this was like a 13 hour test of faith before i got to start my vacation. what, i want to deal with one for 13 hours straight? and that shit-eating "don't kids do the darnedest things?" his mother kept giving me; argh. anywho, the crux of the problem was that being a young child and having little to no control over his movements and, apparently, no conception of personal space- the boy managed to kick, nudge, or hit me every time i started to nod off to sleep while he thrashed around in own fitful (spitefully, thankfully) sleep. for the way he was jerking around, i hope that in his dreams sharks grew legs and arms with scissor-hands and a taste for 5 year olds. i hope they chased him to the beach while he was swimming, waited until he started to feel safe after making it to shore, and then calmly, slowly, and purposefully stepped out of the ocean gnashing their teeth and snipping the air with their rusty scissors. while some of you may be disgusted that i would wish this dream upon some little kid, please remember, i'm very selfish. and vindictive. and passive aggressive.
kicking, kicking, kicking for 13 hours. at one point early on when it became clear that the shit-eating grin aimed at me was going to be the only form of parenting offered by the mother, i caught the kids attention, looked him straight in the eye, and told him that, seriously, he had to stop touching me. now, i know he couldn't understand me, but when some big guy that you've been idly kicking says something to you with murder in his eyes and in a language you can't understand- maybe you better take heed. another time i asked the flight attendant with the battering ram cart if there was any other place to sit (there wasn't).
so that was my flight home, well that and watching speed racer (i'll give anything with christina ricci a try, plus i was in a plane unable to sleep). i'm not going to say anything about the plot, or characters, or actors, or whatever else i bitch about movies for- i'm just going to say that it was one of the most visually confusing movies i have ever seen. like what real life would look like if god were really big into comic books. i say see it just for that.
tomorrow: iowa!