Almost to San Diego. It has been a very trying trip, due to some fellow passengers.

The folks across the aisle for me appear to be flying for the first
time. They have a small boy. Mom, Dad, and little boy. None of the three
of them have what we like to call an “indoor voice.” They have had a
number of little disagreements, ranging from who was responsible for the
delay in the flight, to how many hours time difference it is between
Cincinnati and San Diego, to why there were insufficient toys packed for
the child.

The child, naturally enough, wanted to explore his surroundings, and was
strictly forbidden from doing so. He was not permitted to speak, move,
look around, walk around, jump, laugh, or put his feet up on the seat
back. He was grudgingly permitted to breath.

Unsurprisingly, he quickly began screaming. Upon which development, the
father figure turned him over to the mother figure, saying for all to
hear that he found that rather too frustrating to deal with. Actually,
imagine that with a few more expletives in it. There. Now you’ve got it.

On the bright side, the movie (Sky High) was very entertaining, if exceedingly dumb. Looks like they’re showing Polar Express on the way home.