Flying home

February 19, 1994

After this, we headed back to the airport and picked up our 11 hour flight to Los Angeles, where we are now. The flight didn't seem that bad, really. Not nearly as bad as the trip to Punta Arenas. This is probably caused by the fact that I had a window seat, and was seated next to a sales supervisor for the New Zealand company that makes jet boats: the same company that made the boats that Sir Edmund Hillary used for his expedition up the Ganges River. (The son of the president of the company went with Sir Hillary on that trip.) He was very pleasant and didn't snore. Since I had a window seat, I had more room on the side for laying my head and left arm, instead of being stuck between people on either side.

We will have to wait here in L.A. until

Side note

At this point, you may be wondering what happened to the rest of the journal. I was writing this last entry on a bench at LAX airport, when suddenly I was struck by the fact that we must have misread our itinerary, and that our plane to Chicago was probably leaving, or had already left.

I stopped writing right there, and ran to the displays to find out where our flight was. It was leaving in fifteen minutes, so I quickly got Grandma and we ran to the gate and made it on board just on time. Almost everyone else was already seated and waiting to leave.

By the time we got to Chicago, and then Detroit, I was too exhausted to write any more. So, this is the end!

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