The 10-hour flight to Texas from Paris is always like a black hole. For three hours it feels like a normal flight—you sit down, you settle in, you eat, you read a little, you think, hey this is okay! And then you realize there are seven hours left.
I did some crosswords, I corrected some BTS brochures, I watched some of the New Girl, I got up and went to the bathroom just to move my legs.
And there were still five hours left.
So I did another crossword, I watched another episode of the New Girl, and there were still four hours left.
Like always, I don’t really know how those last four hours passed. And now that I’m sitting in Dallas, waiting for my next flight, it’s like none of it ever happened.
Every time it’s like this. A big black hole. You can’t actually see it except for the void it creates.
In other news, Ju fell on his wrist yesterday. Tomorrow will we get to experience the joy that is El Paso urgent care? Stay tuned to find out.