The Mile High Club
I just initiated myself into the mile high blogosphere. If it exists. If not, I invented it. I'm okay with either scenario. Watching the sun rise from a plane was supposed to be magical. I was anticipating brilliant golds, pinks, and purples rolled out like a red carpet for the approaching sun. Instead it was very anticlimactic. Murky clouds were gradually bathed in a soft light. Pretty, but not breathtaking. Snooooze. Everytime I'm on a plane my dream of being a flight attendant becomes reincarnated. Traveling the world and serving alcoholics cocktails at 6 AM? Sign me up obviously. No, but really. Plus they get the freedom to roam about the cabin. I'm all about that roaming. My butt hurts. Can I just say that these windows are not properly aligned with the seats as to offer the proper view to seat ratio? I'm pretty much smack in the middle of two windows. So if I want to gaze at that gorgeous wing I have to crane my neck grotesquely to the right, effectively str...