Back from Sin City with a severe case of jet lag. That’s because my red-eye flight was two hours late in taking off. This means I was up from 5 a.m. EST Sunday to 3:40 a.m. EST Monday.
I’m not one for sleeping on airplanes, especially with seat mates who aren’t related to me by blood or marriage. I also cannot sleep sitting up, not even in my own living room. By the time we touched down in Detroit at 7:10 a.m. EST, I had catnapped a total of 15 minutes. Maybe.
I will never again fly Spirit Airlines. I’m sure some people just love them; I am not among the fans. One, they nickel and dime you for everything, from overhead bins to water. I don’t know why they don’t charge for air. Two, there’s NO room. I’m a midget, and even I bumped my head on the seat in front of me. I can’t get any smaller; my sympathies to those who are bigger than me. My third reason for hating Spirit: the seat backs don’t recline. Not a smidge. It’s not just improbable, but it’s IMPOSSIBLE to get comfortable enough to doze.
On the plus side, I’m home. Vegas is flashy, it’s fun, it’s a train wreck, but I wouldn’t want to live there. Las Vegas is the gorgeous stripper you wouldn’t want your mom to meet.
I probably shouldn’t be driving, but I had to pick up my car.
Jet lag. It’s what’s for dinner.