We flew down to San Jose the other night, into one of the world's most quaint airports. It seems that I'm flying places on a semi-regular basis anymore, with me doing the Northern California trip in another week for a Summit. I don't mind flying as much as I used to. I think we have frequent flyer miles stacked away somewhere? If I ever get stuck on another kid-laden flight, however, I'll kick the mother holding onto the kicking kid. I tried my best to ignore it, but there's only so many times you can read the barf bag before you've memorized it – and the bruise on my left leg makes me think I've turned into a banana. At least there wasn't any turbulence, and the flight was short (a little under two hours). It could've been worse, I suppose – the flight could've been diverted or turned around? Passenging is so much fun.