A Razorback hat in Tulsa, OK? That's not something I've seen yet. We're in the sky before the sun this morning with a full moon to greet us. The Razorback hat catches my eye again because of its constant up and down motion, flick, flick, flick, apparently with the intention of shielding this guy's eyes for 40 winks, and looking for that comfortable situation. The lady next to him, presumably his wife, leans over with an interjectory thought. The hat flicking continues as he needs his eyes to aid his response. The woman, presumably not his wife, or there would be no need for the casual cordiality, interjects another comment as she leans her hair-sprayed floof onto the headrest, and with another swift flick to cover the eyes, the Razorback cap does the same. Next to me Drew's already sleeping soundly and as cute as ever. It's a good morning.
The stewardess, who may be a distant cousin of Aunt Judy twice removed, has a habit of pressing her lips tightly together and twitching them from side to side as she meticulously pours the drinks. Oh, and I can't forget the hacking going on behind my head making me afraid of the Bubonic Plague and of smoking. And I've made it through the whole flight without having to crawl over someone to get into that tiny crawl space also know as the toilet.