There is nothing, dear readers, quite like the smell of feet while having to be strapped in to a flying petrie dish. We are barreling east over Canada near Hudson Bay. There are six more hours of this little slice of hell. Dennis is actually asleep! Lucky bugger.
I am trying very hard not to freak out and demand a duty free haz-mat suit...the man two seats over, smelly feet woman's dear 'usband, has sneezed at least twenty times since we all crammed ourselves in this tin can, and has only managed to cover his mouth once. I may be digging out the Xanax after all.
Once this bucket o' bolts touches ground again, I have no doubt I will be fine. Until then, Xanax sandwiches all around! I'm buyin'!
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