Greetings from the Comox airport, which is tiny and lined with pretty hardwood beams and fake dinosaur bones for some reason. My flight is delayed, aargh, and I checked my bag absent-mindedly before changing out of my business casual torture suit... meaning I'll be spending the next 8 hours or so wearing my tie and khakis. Dammit.
Having rushed to finish a big plate of fish (termed the mysterious "Mahi Mahi"), and two beer, at the restaurant just moments ago, I will hitherto associate Comox with overeating and searing gas pain (which I am hesitant to relieve in front of my work colleague). If only I were traveling with friends and family - then I could really let fly and relax. But no - I must sit in clenched discomfort. Damn me and my prissy social etiquette.
I had planned to get some work done on the flight, which will bring me to Halifax for 6:45 AM, but I've since realized that TSN is showing a west coast game. So there goes that idea. The two beer probably didn't help that cause either.
My flight looks to be an odd mix of senior citizens, wrinkly-faced women and tattooed meatheads, with a few young families thrown in for good measure. Then there's me - the awkward-looking, grimacing, business casual guy, and my clean cut colleague. This has sitcom potential writen all over it.
This is going to be a looong night.
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