Flying is sort of like going to the dentist for me. It’s never all that pleasant, but is usually slightly better than you think it’s going to be … and sometimes much, much worse. And I am always glad that it’s over. Having to change planes always makes a coast-to-coast flight particularly awful, especially when it involves you running awkwardly through an airport, gasping for breath and accidentally flinging your carry-on suitcase into those who cross your path. (And by you, I mean me.)
Today’s flight back to Los Angeles did result in one score:
I did have the pleasure of reading The Hunger Games on the flight, which was awesome. It’s a trilogy and I’ve only read the first book, but am totally psyched about reading the other installments. If you haven’t read it, go. Go find it and read it now. It’s about a teenage girl named Katniss (I know, but it gets better) who lives in a post-apocalyptic version of the United States, and is chosen in a lottery to compete in a televised fight to the death with teenagers from each district. It’s dark and suspenseful and romantic and cool.
Saving the World, One Pointless Act at a Time 
