Recently in Travel Category

Guess what? I'm back on a plane again! Yes, I'm on yet another flight back to the East Coast, and I'll be honest -- I wasn't gonna "flog" it. First of all, I'm a bit tired; second of all, I thought I might do real work; third of all, there aren't even any celebrities that I'm aware of on this place, and fourth of all, I just wasn't sure if I could get myself into the flog mindset.

But then someone spilled soda on me, and I knew I had to start writing. Details forthcoming. Click after the jump and refresh for live updates...

This year, Disneyland has been running a promotion allowing people to visit the theme park for free on their birthdays. It just so happens that I turned a year older last week; so I happily took advantage of this offer and headed down to Anaheim for a day of whimsy and make-believe (which is not unlike my normal afternoon). Joining me on this adventure was Lil Grans and none other than IndianJones, who was back in the 'hood for the weekend. Jash and Sly were also hoping to make the trip as well, but work obligations kept them away from the Happiest Place on Earth (or "the happiest place in the world," as IndianJones mistakenly called it).

After the jump, some photos from our day at Disney.

As promised -- albeit a day late -- here are some more photos from Thanksgiving weekend. There's not much of a narrative flow as I opted not to photograph every single moment, but the pics were amusing; so here they are. Be warned: there's an excessive amount of IndianJones on display.

Well, Thanksgiving has come and gone, and while we all ponder ways in which we'll be exercising off the copious amounts of calories ingested over the weekend, I've decided to relive the glorious memories from the past week. Actually, I'm just posting photos. I headed up to San Francisco this year on a mini-road trip where I met up with none other than IndianJones (who provided my lodging) and J-Unit. Jash was supposed to join, but he was sidelined by a particularly vicious bout of food poisoning that left him bedridden and clammy. It's probably for the best. As jash is American Indian, I would have heard nothing but squawking about retribution and maize all weekend long. Nevertheless, after the jump, check out various random photos from the exciting drive up.

Now THIS would have been a flight to blog. I just received this email from my friend Jeff who is attempting to fly from LAX to Miami:

"my plane just made an emergency landing in Dallas because Scott Weiland od'd on prescription meds. Sort of amazing."

This was then followed by:

"I also just convinced a very cute med student sitting next to me that his new album is called 'Airplanes Make Me Crazy!'. True story. "

Damnit! Why can't I have crazy celebs on my plane? All I get are demure women like Sigourney Weaver or Gwyneth Paltrow or Ariane from Top Chef. Oh well. I suppose I should be happy for the lack of emergency landings.

For more information on Scott Weiland's seizure-riffic transcon experience, check out the story here.

Last month I headed up to Portland and Seattle for a brief personal holiday of sorts (because we all know how extremely busy I am on a day to day basis), and while in Oregon, I met up with my friend Meeshie for some raucous good times. Of the various adventures we had though, nothing was quite as enjoyable as our day wine tasting in the Portland hinterlands (a day that included a wonderful lunch at Red Lobster — a perpetual vice for me). We didn't go too crazy — only stopping off at two destinations — but spirits were had by all, and since Meeshie's mom was our designated driver, we were able to let loose a bit and indulge in some rather hefty helpings of booze. Needless to say, the spittoons were left empty.

A full photographic essay of our tastings after the jump...

Well, here I am. On another plane. But unlike my recent Alaska and Jetblue excursions, this time I'm on American Airlines, and you know what that means — GoGo in flight wireless! That means that I am writing to you live from the skies, relaying useful and petty information AS IT HAPPENS. The glories of technology. Even better is that while this service normally costs $13, my friend jash was able to hook me up with a sweet promotion code that has reduced the fee down to $0.00. That's right. This experience is freeeeeeee! And you all know how I like a good deal.

Anyway, everything seems to be pretty good so far, but as usual, I have a few complaints. Let the whining commence...

Today I flew from Los Angeles to New York, and I had the supreme displeasure of being seated directly behind the world's worst toddler. I knew this kid was bad news way back at Burbank airport when he came running up to me and HID behind my luggage. I don't like when unruly children with snot dripping from their nose enter my personal area, let alone when they touch my baggage. This was highly upsetting to me. After about twenty seconds, this devil child's dad (who had body odor, I'd like to add) took him by the hand and led him away WITHOUT EVEN APOLOGIZING TO ME. Imagine my dismay when I discovered I'd be sitting directly behind these awful, awful people on the airplane.

The good news was that the first forty-five minutes of the flight were sublimely quiet and peaceful as Baby was asleep. But then he woke up, and it was hell from that point on. This kid cried and cried and cried and cried. And when he wasn't crying, he was yelling. And when he wasn't yelling, he was crying again. The two passengers next to me (both gentlemen of a certain age) made silly faces and googly eyes every time the toddler stuck his dirty face above the seat. I, however, leveled the angriest glare I could summon, hoping that it would somehow scare the boy into silence. It worked once — allowing me ten seconds of relief before the caterwauling started up again. Mostly, however, my icy eyes were met with a giggle of all things, which was in turn followed by more crying. It was horrendous.

Now, I've gotten some flack from some readers about how cruel and unsympathetic I am to children, and I'd like to add that I do like a few kids — mainly the ones related to me because THEY have been raised by good parents and therefore are well behaved (props to my brother and sis-in-law). But let me add that this rant comes not from being a hater. No, this rant comes because this child was seriously awful. I can say this because there were other toddlers on the plane who were perfectly benign and lovely. One woman walked her boy up and down the aisle about ten times, but it was fine because he made not a peep. The toddler in front of me, however, was all screaming all the time. You'd think the parents would get the bright idea to similarly walk their kid around the plane to mollify his restlessness, but no, they did no such thing. In fact, they didn't even take him to the bathroom once the ENTIRE TIME. Poor kid — he probably had shat his pants somewhere over western Colorado and was just begging for new diapers. Either way, whether the child was terrible or merely the parents, I can say that I was most miserable. In fact, the noises became so loud and horrific that I simply had to record them with my webcam. Hence the video above. Check it out to sample ninety seconds of my pain. I defy you to make it to the end of the clip...

For the past several months, I've been promising various friends that I would try yoga, but every time I try to get my act together, something comes up, and the whole endeavor falls apart. It's been quite frustrating for all parties involved. Well, this past weekend, whilst summering in sunny (yes, sunny) Seattle, my friend Meeshie suggested I try some yoga poses. It really was the perfect moment for such an activity: the weather was beautiful, the waterfront exquisite, and the company lovely. And so while m_ruv manned a camera, Meeshie set about teaching me some basic poses — none of which I held longer than about twenty seconds. Hey, it's a start.

Photos of me attempting to display minor flexibility after the jump...

Ardent readers of this blog may have noticed that content has been somewhat lacking over the past few days. That's because I've been touring the Pacific Northwest, enjoying the sights and sounds (and various libations) of Portland and Seattle. Well, now I'm back, but of course I couldn't just FLY somewhere without sharing the experience — especially since I managed to score a swanky first class ticket back to Los Angeles on Alaska Airlines. So yes, here I am with another FLOG, ready to share all from my two hour jaunt in the sky.

The full experience, including a MOST dissatisfying crudite incident, after the jump...

Last weekend, my friend Jash and I drove out to Palm Springs for the day to meet up with Sly, who was on Holiday with our college friend Rodrigo. Of course, by the time Jash and I arrived in the desert resort town, Sly and Rodrigo were in the throes of poolside relaxation twenty miles away and thus would only be able to meet up with us in two hours' time for dinner. So what, pray tell, could we do to pass the afternoon? Well, Jash spied a miniature golf course — the ubiquitous Boomers franchise — and suggested playing a round or two. Who was I to turn down such a novel whimsy? Besides, as my parents and brother will tell you, I was quite the putt-putt fiend in my youth, and to this day, I've never turned down an opportunity to hit the mini links.

Well, Jash and I took to the greens, and of course, many pictures were taken. After the jump, a cheery photographic journey through the many glorious (read: decrepit) wonders of Boomers...

Well, I'm back up in the air and headed back to Los Angeles, and I'm proud to report that there's no Ginny in sight. I was a little concerned that my arch-nemesis would be returning to the Left Coast with me, but thankfully, she's nowhere to be seen. Perhaps there's an urgent candy cane blazer conference in New York City that demands her presence. Nevertheless, without her presence, this flight has been more or less uneventful. The guy next to me seems cool (and capable of beating me up), and even though there are an abundance of children and families on this flight, they all seem to be quiet and placid. Maybe they're all bracing for the cinematic experience that is Marley and Me — soon to begin after the cocktail service.

And where is that cocktail service anyway? I'm starving, but I don't want to gorge on my Cibo Express sandwich (ham & brie sandwich, black and white cookie on the side) until I have a beverage to sate what will surely be a ravenous thirst. Aha! Ask and ye shall receive! The beverage cart has just appeared in the aisle, and my lunch plans look to be headed in the right direction.

More excitement after the jump...

People. People, people, people. I just endured a horrifically awkward ninety minutes on an airplane, and admittedly it was really my own fault. I was live blogging my flight from Los Angeles to New York, and as I am wont to do, I fixated on random minutia in the cabin, particularly that which emanated from the woman next to me, who I had named Ginny. Well, after she nearly spilled a glass of water on me, I kind of went on a blogging rampage, mercilessly making fun of every small thing she did — which probbbbbbably (read: most definitely) wasn't tremendously fair to her, but in my own meager defense, I can say that when I start writing these things, I'm not even writing about the person anymore. It's like I've created a character and am just running with it. Anyway, that explanation doesn't fly when the person you've been quietly mocking for about an hour happens to check out your laptop, read your remarks, and then call you out on it.

And that's just what Ginny did. The whole awful saga after the jump...

Hello, people! I'm currently flying cross country on American Airlines, taking advantage of the inflight WiFi. You know what that means: time to live blog the adventures.

Bitching and moaning after the jump...

Over the weekend, I headed to Las Vegas to celebrate the joint 30th birthdays of IndianJones and J-Unit, and as is likely to happen in Sin City, we promptly came upon some hawt girl-on-girl action right on the strip. Needless to say, our cameras caught all of the action.

To see a few more pics, as well as the hotties who were locking lips, follow the jump...

Surprise, surprise! I am currently on an airplane flying to New York, and with the advent of in-flight Internet courtesy of Gogo Wireless, I'm able to truly report to you all with a live blog. This is actually the second time I've used this service, and I'm still a bit giddy about the notion of checking my email while cruising high above the mountains of California. I LOVE TECHNOLOGY. What I don't love, however, are unexpected kinks in what should be a relatively straightforward flight.

The story behind my "Ugggghhhhh" after the jump...

If this blog seemed particularly quiet on Friday, it's because I spent half that day getting in touch with my inner farmer. That's right, in a shocking departure from my usual urban adventures, I headed north to the San Fernando Valley and visited Forneris Farms, a random outpost in Mission Hills, CA that's home to a pumpkin patch, a market, and most importantly, a corn maze. The experience was aggressively wholesome, and even better, there was not a single child in sight. Actually, there was one kid, but she was cute and relegated to the safe environs of an inflatable bouncy pumpkin.

The motivation for this trip actually stemmed from a strange mixture of childhood yearnings, pop culture wish fulfillment, and general boredom. You see, ever since I was a kid, I've been obsessed with mazes. I always dreamed of going to a hedge maze, and while I've been to some, they've always tended to be quaint things that are less about a challenge and more about good gardening. In recent years, my friend Meeshie and I have tried in vain to go to various corn mazes, but scheduling tended to always get in the way. The one time we did manage to get ourselves over to a maze, we were shocked to find that it didn't even exist. We were confronted with nothing but an empty field. It was horrifying.

Recently, news popped up of a David Archuleta corn maze in Utah. It seemed like the perfect opportunity. I could fulfill my corn maze fantasies, indulge in some kitschy pop culture, and get a beautiful road trip out of it to boot. Unfortunately, I had no one to go with me. The only person who was interested in such an adventure was Jash, and since he actually has a real life job, he couldn't just traipse up north at the drop of a hat. Sadly, this perfect union of American Idol and corn would not be happening, but I still had the maize on the mind. After doing some research, I discovered that we had a corn maze right here in the Los Angeles area. I called up my friend Sawgee and convinced him to join me as I finally embarked on my very first corn maze experience.

Photos of this adventure, including our disorienting journey through the corn maze, after the jump...

I've done a lot of flight blogs — or flogs — in my time, but never in all my time have I been able to actually LIVE blog my flights. Granted, I call it liveblogging as I'm typing what I observe as it happens, but the truth is that I don't usually publish my flogs until several hours after I've touched down. Not this time, my friends. American Airlines just introduced in-flight Wi-Fi five days ago on selected routes, and yours truly has the luxury of flying one of those special planes. Thanks to GoGo, I'm able to stay connected to the internet for the duration of my flight for a flat fee of $13. It's a bit steep, I suppose, but the ability to be on email THE WHOLE WAY more than makes up for the slight pecuniary injustice. And yes, I'm on a transcontinental flight — so spread over five hours (ish) of travel time, it's a pretty good deal. I'm not sure I could say the same for the New York to Miami route, but then again, it all depends on how desperately anyone wants to check their email.

Nevertheless, let's start this flog already!

Back in May, I posted about my semi-awkward encounter with Lenny Kravitz in Prague, and I'm happy to report that the commercial around which the whole debacle centered has finally made it to air. Above, check out the new spot for Kohl's, and know that in one of those windows behind Lenny's head, my mom and I are standing there wondering what in the hell is goin' on with all these crazy people in the square (we couldn't see Lenny from our viewpoint). Oh if only the Museum of Decorative Arts had received a close-up — we coulda been stars!

Apologies for the lack of posts for the past day and a half. As you can see from this picture, I enjoyed a brief jaunt to Vegas. I should have new Big Brother photocaps up soon, not to mention a few pics from Sin City. Thank you for your patience...

This past weekend, I took a lovely little jaunt to Chicago, and while I was busy doing work on the flight there, I made sure to reserve the return trip for some good old fashioned flight blogging, or flogging as I call it. Anyway, I've just concluded a long, arduous day of traveling, and while my celebrity sightings weren't as good as my friend Jash's (he took a flight to NY this weekend and sat next to Usher, or something like that), hopefully the addition of an Arkansas layover will spice up the festivities. Okay, it won't, but like poker, sometimes you gotta play your low card and hope for the best.

The whole sordid affair after the jump...

When I was in Europe a few weeks ago, there was one commercial that played over and over and over again on CNN International, and thankfully, I just found it on YouTube. It's a bombastic spot intended to lure investors to the emirate of Ajman, but instead, it just kind of plays out like light cult indoctrination, especially when the enthusiastic narrator announces, "The power of belief paves the way for achievement!" All that's missing are some John Woo doves. Nevertheless, the commercial in its entirety is above, and if you're fascinated by life in the UAE, check out my friend's blog here.

Oh the joys of Europe. I could be half a world away from Los Angeles, and yet I still somehow manage to have celebrity stories to tell. This latest one comes from the Czech Republic, which I visited about a week ago. As avid readers of this blog know, I was "on holiday" with my family last week, and one of the cities we stayed in was the ever beautiful Prague. The city was great, and I was especially thrilled one afternoon when I returned to my hotel and found several paparazzi lurking around the exterior like sharks coming to feed. What could this be? Was there a celebrity in our midst? I could only hope so! The whole sordid tale after the jump...

I wrote this a few nights ago, but I didn't have the internet access to post it until now...

Prague may offer many exciting nightlife options, but I'm more content to sit in my hotel room and watch TV. That's right. I don't need beer or fun or good times. I just need multi-lingual televised offerings, and thankfully, my hotel offers just that. (Actually, truth be told, I would be perfectly happy to go to a pub right now, but as I'm here with my parents, I don't have too many options drinking-buddy-wise).

Anyway, here's some good TV.

Sights from the Airport Lounge

Well, here I am, about to depart for yet another flight, but unlike other flight blogs, or flogs, this one is special. I'm not headed to the sunny climes of Los Angeles. Far from it. I'm flying off to the mysteriously inviting world that is Eastern Europe. That's right, I'm jet-setting off to Prague, and I couldn't be more excited. This will be my first ever international flog. But even better, I'm flying Business Class — also a flog first. This should lead to a whole new level of fascinating observations.

The action should all take place momentarily. I'm slated to board in about t-minus seven minutes, and as this is the first time I've flown Lufthansa, I'm quite excited. I've spent the latter part of the past hour sitting here in the Business Class lounge, which technically belongs to SAS, not Lufthansa, but that's okay. I'm open to all countries and their swanky lounges. As you can imagine, this one has a high number of flaxen Danes and Swedes present. I thought I had spotted three or four German hausfraus, but alas, upon further inspection (ie. the newspapers they were reading), I'd have to place them somewhere in the Oslo region.

When I haven't been doing any ethnic sleuthing, I've been snacking on the wide array of breads, cheeses, and cookies. I thought about boozing it up too, but quite frankly, I just didn't feel like it. Instead, I've merely focused on the food. I've already gone back for seconds (the sesame bun was a mid-afternoon delight — especially when paired with an ample helping of herbed cream cheese), and I was quite happy to discover a huge selection of nicely arranged Pepperidge Farm cookies. Milanos? Don't mind if I do!

Well, I should probably close up shop now. Perhaps there'll be an update in Frankfurt. See you in many hours...

Fred and Jan get ready for the flight.

Well, I'm back in New York for the Jewish holidays, but regrettably, I did not have time to do a flight blog because actual work deadlines necessitated that I do real writing on the plane. That's okay though. You didn't really miss much -- you know, beyond the wretched toddler that screamed like a demon THE WHOLE WAY. And did the parents ever sternly tell their awful child to be quiet? No. Instead, they just softly patted him on the back and kissed his forehead. TERRIBLE. Needless to say, these parents were the recipients of many passive-aggressive stares, and not just by me. A good portion of the people around me did the whole turn-around-and-glare thing too. I felt empowered.

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

Imagine taking the "Wow" factor of your typical time-lapse viral video and adding the artistry of Michel Gondry. You wind up with this clip, which follows the famed director and his brother as they drive across the country in just four minutes.

Via Gawker

Inspired by my recent trip to NYC, I've decided to come up with the ten most awful things that happen at an airport baggage claim (short of actually losing luggage). I'm sure there are more annoyances than this list can handle, but at least this is a good starting point.

The view from my seat.

Ahh, it feels like it was just last week when I last wrote a flight blog, and here I am again, busting out the laptop for more airborne commentary. It's time to leave the chilly climes of the Northeast and return to the sunny, temperate weather of Los Angeles -- Burbank Airport, specifically.  After a whirlwind weekend of wedding activities (and snow), I've found myself back at JFK, sitting in the JetBlue terminal and waiting for this alleged wireless hotspot to kick in.  You see, despite my laptop registering a full four bars-worth of connectivity, I'm unable to access the World Wide Web.  A quick polling of my nearby laptop neighbors reveal that they too have been similarly and frustratingly cockblocked from the Internet.  Sadly, this isn't the first time this has happened.  The last few times I've flown out of JFK, I've noticed that the wireless hotspot has been anything but.  I mean, yes, it is a spot, but it's hardly hot.

So without internet access, I'm stuck here observing my surroundings.  The terminal is packed, I should note.  I think I saw someone from Bunim-Murray at the food court.  I don't know his name, and I never interacted with him when I was working there, but I'm fairly sure he's a producer or something.  I also saw a woman watching Juno on her laptop.  I guess she had a screener.  WELL.  Two can play at that game, lady.  Maybe I'll just pop in MY screener of Atonement.  Actually, I won't.  It's entirely too early in the morning for a delicate British drama.

Lastly, I should note that some guy full-on farted at the security check in.  It was nasty.  So nasty that one of the security guards asked another loudly, "Juan, did you pass gas?"  She then fanned her hand in front of her face.  Whoever smelt it dealt it, right?  Rest assured, it wasn't me (despite my making the rhyme, which means I therefore did the crime.  Although, now I've denied it, which means I've also supplied it.  Damn, I'm really making a bad case for myself).  Nevertheless, the lack of usable internet access mixed with the toxic clouds of ass emissions has made this morning in Terminal 6 slightly unpleasant.  That's okay though.  I actually have real work I have to do, which means that while I'll check in periodically to give updates on the flight, I won't be as fastidious with the blogging as perhaps my trip out [ed. note -- this proved to be a lie].  Plus, there's also the very real possibility that I may conk out mid flight (only got like two hours of sleep last night).  So now we're all updated and happy, yes?  Good.  See you in the air.

Oh what a week. After having made an auspicious paparazzi photo appearance a few days ago, I knew I had to somehow maintain the (VERY real) image of my fast-paced Hollywood lifestyle, and what better way to do that than by jumping on the latest plane out of Burbank and jet setting to New York City? Yeah, I'm that cool —  I fly across the country just for the hell of it.

Okay, okay. I didn't fly across the country to look cool. I came to New York for a wedding. And I flew on the rather unglamorous (but still wonderful) JetBlue. So as you can see, my pseudo-glitzy image is in much need of bolstering (and mark my words, it WILL be bolstered some day). In the time being though, I'll do what I do best: writing a transcontinental flight blog. Or as I call it, a flog. Good times to be had by all, I'm sure.

I'm a little under the weather; so rather than compose a full post, I thought I'd just assemble some good old fashioned lovable links.

• Rachel Ray suffers at the hands of a vengeful, silence-seeking waiter. [midseasonreplacements]


• The Hills guide to Los Angeles. [Gridskipper]


• The Monte Carlo Casino in Vegas has caught on fire. So yeah, don't go to the top floor. [LA Times]


• And because you want more crazy, here is the full 45 minute long, uncut version of the Tom Cruise Scientology video. I confess, I haven't endeavored to watch the whole thing yet. [Digg]

Very few people reserve the title "VIP" for me. It's mostly just my mom and dad and the occasional Hallmark card. However, despite my perpetual outsider status, I have risen to the VIP ranks thanks to the glorious travel website, Hotelchatter.com. Part of the SFO Media empire, the site boasts a wide variety of news, reviews and features on hotels around the world, and recently I was invited to contribute my own article about my experiences in Paris. Little did I realize that I would be labeled a VIP Hotel Reviewer. Hey, I'll take what I can get. And yes, I will be flaunting that title in every hotel lobby, bar, and valet station that I can find. Holiday Inn —  you best be prepared.

Anyway, for those of you who wish to read about my hotel lodgings in Paris, feel free to click the link below.

• TV Buff Finds Cheap Lodging in the Heart of Paris' Latin Quarter [HotelChatter]

Back in September, I went on a highfalutin jaunt to Paris with some friends, and while there, we had lunch at a cozy, New York Times-recommended bistro called Chez Michel. The meal was delicious — some of the best mussels I've ever had — but nothing could prepare me for the cheese plate I had ordered for dessert. Turns out the plate was less a of plate and more of a miniature fromagerie. No dainty slices of brie here — just giant blocks of cheese. It could have fed ten people. We were all so shocked when this leviathan offering of dairy products descended on the table that I immediately whipped out my camera and snapped a quick photo.

Little did I realize this offhand pic would soon become the toast of the Internet. Okay, maybe that's an overstatement. It's only been viewed twenty times. BUT I was most honored when the editors of the online travel resource Schmap contacted me about using the photo in their latest Paris guide. I'm not going to lie: I was floored, and I don't even know why. It's cool and everything, but when I received the email, I literally felt like I had been nominated for an Academy Award. I think it's because it was like two in the morning, and I was tired and/or delirious. Nevertheless, I've since come down from my Schmap-induced high, but I remain quite flattered that the editors saw artistry (or at least functionality) in my pic. To check out the photo in all its Schmappy context, click here.

Oh, and as for the cheese, it was quite tasty. We quickly deduced that it was indeed a traveling plate, meant for consumption by multiple tables. Probably not the most sanitary of practices, but oh so very European!

• Chez Michel [Schmap!! Paris]

Ah Delta Airlines — the eternal wellspring of traveler nightmares. Between the pink-tinted TV monitors and the narrow, butt-numbing seats, it's hard not to find something to complain about on this oft-maligned airline. I've been lucky enough to have avoided them for the past few years, but others haven't been so blessed. My friend IndianJones had the misfortune of flying Delta from Los Angeles to Boston (via Vegas), and for whatever reason, he seemed to think his experience would be hassle-free and unremarkable, as evidenced by this naively amusing Facebook proclamation:

"IndianJones is not going to bore you with the details of his travel....yet."

I guess he thought he was in for a rather mundane transcontinental flight. Well, it only took a few more hours before the inevitable update surfaced:

"IndianJones has finally been hit with the curse of the lost bag....thanks DELTA."

I felt his pain, even though I immediately wrote "HA!" on his Wall. Nevertheless, it wasn't until a full day later that he could proudly announce, "IndianJones has been reunited with his bag." Surely, it was an arduous experience for him, but don't feel too bad though. He's in the Bahamas now. Suffering a similar fate (minus the tropical final destination) was the author of Hiro Talks A Lot, who not only lost her bag but had to deal with FECES during her Delta exploits. To read the entire sordid story, which is highly amusing, click here.

As you all know, I definitely appreciate a good airplane story.  And when it comes to stories, very few can match Dave Sedaris in the humor department.  How convenient then that in this week's New Yorker, the acclaimed writer takes on that most vaunted of experiences:  a trans-atlantic flight red-eye.  Unlike my flight blogs, which have all taken place in the sprawling pandemonium of coach, Sedaris documents the joys and inconveniences of Business Class Elite, an entirely new and dainty beast.  It's hilarious.  I particularly enjoyed his follies with the armrest control panel (an error, I might add, that I would NEVER make)  Thanks to Zoobabe for the link!

•  Journey Into Night [The New Yorker]

WELL HELLO.  Welcome to my new blog.  It's sort of a work in progress; so excuse the mess.  A few weeks ago, I decided that I was officially going to start blogging again, and what better way to mark my triumphant return than by engaging in one of my favorite pastimes of blogging yore:  the flight liveblog.  Or perhaps, the flightblog.  Or better yet, the flog.  

Yes, for the first time in what felt like years, I decided to pull out my laptop on a flight and blog the entire thing.  At first, I wasn't going to do much — just dip the toes in the proverbial waters, if you will.  Why bother doing all this work if I didn't even have a blog set up?  But when I found myself detailing the assorted highs and lows of sitting amidst a celebrity and an awful, awful family, I knew I had to find me some real estate on the Internets.  One thing led to another, and after much brainstorming/annoyingly questioning friends to no end, I decided upon this here domain name, and the rest, dare I say, is history.  Well, maybe not history.  It's a bit presumptuous of me to act like this blog is history-worthy when this is in fact its very first entry, but IRREGARDLESS, I now have a home for my flight blog (flog), and so without further ado, I present to you my first official blog entry...