My mood has been anything but inspired lately.
Funny, I’ve noticed a few bloggers that seem to be experiencing the same type of blasé funk. Maybe it’s the month of February, that strange phase of the winter solstice when I stumble deep into these chasms that seem to drain my energy and zap my already lacking sense of creativity.
My mind has been pre-occupied with the trip to Honduras and possibly that’s part of the problem. I’m hoping it’s just my psyche preparing itself for the impending experience of Central America.
I admit, it’s a psychological ruse at best, Lord knows my brain is excellent
at finding reasons why I shouldn’t write.
I’ve been thinking about the flight into Tegucigalpa, Honduras.
Several people have already told me that when you land, everyone on the plane applauds.
That’s reassuring, huh?
They say the landing is a difficult one, and I’ve been told the runway is only 30yds long
I thought Chicago was the Windy City?
Believe me, Philly is a close second.
The flight was basically alright until the plane came in for a landing.
I happened to look out the window and noticed that the body of the plane was at a slight angle to the straight runway.
OMG. I’m going to die.
At the moment of (impact) touchdown, the plane jerked itself back in line with the runway.
I experienced an intestinal lapdance that I won’t soon forget.
So much for the clean Fruit-of-the-loom's that day.
When I go to Honduras, I plan on taking my token tablets of Dramamine
(yes, I’m a puny-birdy-girly man)
and ordering a good, stiff libation when we’re in the air.
The combo turns me into what I call the quintessential “happy camper”.
Maybe it’s getting the camper to Honduras that’s the biggest problem.
I've got a great bodyguard, anyway…