June 17, 2017:

The Big Guy snores. Arms crossed over triple bellies, chin wiggling. Good. He won't stress me all flight with alcohol perched to fall into my computer the first time his elbow twitches.

Smell of burnt toast. Either I'm having a stroke or the plane's on fire. I'd research it with Google but the WIFI's out.

Blue. Gulf of Mexico. Storm clouds, maneuvers, flight attendants please stay seated. All's well. Maybe if I snore like the Big Guy the trip will go faster.