On the road

The woman sitting next to me on the plane smells like chocolate and ham. I can't imagine why. Could she have had chocolate and ham for breakfast? Maybe this is what they do in North Carolina, and she is fleeing the brutal eggs-and-toast oppression of the tundra to go back to her chocolate-and-ham eating people.

Or maybe she is made of ham. I could believe this. She has forearms like ham hocks, and thighs like ham hocks, and a face like a great big ham hock. I suppose this doesn't account for the chocolate smell, which is making me vaguely nauseated.

Directly behind me is a couple who has brought their tiny little purse dog on board with them, riding in a designer dog tote. It is running in tiny little circles inside of its tiny little Dolce and Gabanna prison and yipping once every 7.28 seconds precisely. Maybe it is excited by the smell of the ham lady.

In front of me, a mother is bribing her daughter with candy. "Sit still or no Starburst. Sit still or no Starburst!"

Traveling for the holidays is so charming.