Returning home...

We left Venice Friday morning, taking a water taxi from our apartment to the airport. Flying KLM from Venice to Amsterdam and I feel compelled to pay compliment to KLM airlines. As far as airlines go, they just felt like a class act. The stewardesses in their light blue suits were a bit more attentive and accommodating that we have become accustomed to. On the two hour flight, we were served complimentary drinks (alcohol included), two different types of sandwiches, and ice cream.

After a short layover in Amsterdam, we boarded the plane for the next leg. It is hard to get motivated for a 9-hour flight, but it did go well. Being on an Airbus makes a big difference. The individual video screens with games, music and movies on demand go a long way to breaking up a long flight. I was able to see a couple of films including "Into the Wild" and "Moon over Miami," a bit different genres, but enjoyable nonetheless.

For people watchers, flying can be a quite entertaining experience, this flight was no exception. From the moment he walked into the plane there was one gentleman, probably in his mid to late 40's that you could just tell was going to be trouble and it wasn't long before those thoughts had been confirmed. From the moment he sat down and informed the flight attendant that he was in the mood to party and to keep brining the drinks, you knew it would be trouble. The arrogance and inconsideration of this man were astounding.

Now, I don't claim to be a germophobe, but after roughly the 5th or 6th sneeze of this man without covering his mouth was giving me a much greater appreciation for the life of Howard Hughes. Not the little "oh I can't believe I just sneezed" variety, his sneeze was the "everyone in a 5 mile radius is going to experience this one" type. Pop another "Airborn" and tell yourself he doesn't "look" as though he was dying from any communicable diseases.

As the flight progressed, this gentle man was finding great entertainment in a movie was was laughing boisterously in order for the entire plane to notice. He had also made himself comfortable by reclining his seat and then wedging his feed on the chair ahead of him preventing that chair from reclining and forcing his chair back even further.

Nearing the coast again, in the upper regions of Canada, we hear an announcement over the intercom, "If there is a doctor on board, please report to the rear of the plane." Well, so much for sleep. Now 3-4 people walked to the back of the plane including one which appeared to be a pilot, I surmised that they appeared to be "doctors" and had there not been a potential-life threatening activity developing in the back of the plane, I might have been compelled to have them check out Mr. Sneezy to make sure he wasn't spreading the plague or the like.

Shortly after the call for a doctor, our friend Mr. Sneezy starts protesting that he wants another drink and where is the flight attendant. She was in fact in the rear of the plane as far as we know saving a life or perhaps helping to detain a terrorist. Your drink buddy, wasn't on the top of the priority list at that very moment. So he gets up, goes to the galley and retrieves it himself, I watch in amazement.

As this all progresses, your mind can't help but wander to the possibilities of what is happening in the rear of the plane, will be be diverted to a Canadian city for medical help, was it an elderly person, a child, was it communicable, had someone in the rear of the plane actually expired. Thoughts of an article I had recently read where someone had passed on flight and they moved them to first-class, strapped them into the seat for the remainder of the flight. My brother Brian, with much greater Howard Hughes tendencies, was surely to be walking down the aisle any moment, hyperventilating and refusing to return to his seat near the corpse until he was assured the cause of death wasn't contagious.

In the end, as far as we know, no one died, while the thoughts of the murder of "Mr. Sneezy" had run though my head, I attributed it to an anxiety attack of someone, nothing more than a little oxygen and some hand holding. I don't know that to be the case, but that is the one I am going with.

With all the entertainment and paranoia, the flight did seem to go a bit more quickly, as quickly as 9 hours in hell can go. But it was, as always, a good feeling to touch down in the US and know that you soon would be home.

The flight to Fargo was uneventful and I was excited to see Tom and the girls waiting for me at the terminal. It was great to be home and in their arms again.