Fly Me

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It’s tiresome to complain about air travel in this country, in the summer, in the crowds and through cross-wind enabled thunderstorms across the Midwest.

So I won’t bore you with the the mobs at LaGuardia, delays due to weather and the white knuckle descents into Kansas City and Denver.

 

 

 

Just the miracle, as the plane bounced through darkening skies, when the man from Topeka popped up in front of my children’s seats on Frontier and sang out, “what’s your favorite color?”

And with that, balloon dogs at 13,000 feet. The skies can still be friendly.

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