Usually, when I’m traveling on a day ending in Y, getting laid is better than getting layed-over. I’m a very direct person, especially when it comes to my flights. Toronto to Tokyo was becoming an annual pilgrimage before governments told everyone stop it with the orgies. Though, I haven’t actually been on a layover in so long, I’m feeling some sorta fuzzy way about it. It’s almost charming, with a new route of delivery.

Ecstatically I’m off one plane and headed toward another. Now officially en route to A Whales Vagina, I’m the figurative Don Ready. One compoundingly* seducing early-morning flight in hand, and I rock steady my way through Chicago. (*is “compoundingly” really not a word yet?) I realize don’t even know which of the Windy City’s dueling airports I’m in. Nor do I give a flying fuck. Midway or O’Hare, don’t care.

Wait, we’re not boarding by zones? Gracias, Allah. Danke, Buddha. Arigato Elegba. Praze Jeebus. Whatever you’re into, thumbs up. 👍🏽 In the US&A, we put In God We Trust on our currency, even though many of the founding fathers were atheist. Hmmm. Common sense is my deity and you’re telling me the rona got airlines boarding from the rear? The obviously efficient has finally emerged victorious among us. Color me fantastic; I like sitting in the back and I like to board early. He shoots. He scores.

Space is most definitely tightening up in what is basically the third class cabin. Almost as if the last 11 months were some math problem where the tray table and my belly were moving toward each other at the variable speeds of x and y. The bathrooms are even more ridiculous. I’ve heard the mile high club had been shuttered for years, but I’m not sure I could even take a shit in there without dislocating my collarbone when I went to wipe. Eh, Confucius says it is better to shit on the ground than in the air, anyway. My basic confined space training, average height and double shot of Pfizer all have me comfortably in my seat on a nearly full flight. 28 D, motherfucker.

Whoa. Tenet comes on my mini screen for free. I needed to see this twice anyway. Coffee come out efficiently. I break my cheap paper mask and they bring me a new one in a napkin. The kick is up and it is good. I can’t help but wonder if the experience of flying on the cheap has somehow gotten better for me. My mind once more drifts off into bike tour logistics, reveling in the profound suffering that the first-day climb out of Saahn Dee Ah Go and into the mountains will be. Like a factory of satisfactory. Yin. Yang. Gang. Touchdown.