  First and foremost; I had a celebrity sighting! We were transferring planes in Las Vegas, when who should hop onto the very same moving sidewalk as me? PENN! Of Penn and Teller. The tall, broad-shouldered one with the curly long hair and glasses... the one who talks. Unfortunately, by the time I'd decided to say "hi, I enjoy your work" he was gone and I was tripping over the end of the moving sidewalk. As if that wasn't enough "drama" for one night, we had to board the second leg of our journey home.
Oh. My. God. It was a fucking tin can plane! I swear to god, our travel agent was retarded. I know there aren't exactly a ton of passengers going to Spokane International Airport en route from Las Vegas (or anywhere else I guess) but Christ! This aisle between the seats was literally 20 inches wide. I've never been airsick before, not that I'm an experienced traveler or anything. It's only that the handful of times I've flown before I've always been totally fine. Tonight was the exception.
Good lord, was it an exception. Let's just say I felt true appreciation for the inventor of the airsickness bag. I was feeling mildly better on the drive home. About five blocks from our house I suddenly had to throw up... immediately . I got out of the car just in time to puke all over some poor family's perfectly manicured lawn. Affectionately....Annnnnnnnnnnna 
