Over the Mediterranean

9/23 9:40AM
We took off into the sunrise above a deck of blue gray clouds. Far off to starboard a thunderhead rose from the clouds like an art deco coffee table on a fluffy carpet. Back to Jabba the Hut.

Jane took special effort to secure seats for us in aisle 8, on the bulkhead adjoining first class, for the long, long flight from Newark to Barcelona. We would enjoy extra leg room and extra convenience, at the door, near a head.
We walked onto the plane, turned right, glanced left, and there, in full repose, in the aisle seat and one third of the middle seat reclined Jabba the Hut. Jane, as is her want, booked herself the window seat. She passed Jabba, who made no effort to move. I took a big breath, squeezed past him and shoehorned myself into my seat, between his overflow and the rigid seat arm on my right, between Jane and me. The tray tables reside in those chairarms, but the caird arm on my left, and my tray table, were completely obscured by, and buried by, Jabba's overflow. He oozed over the seat into the left one third of my space.
New experiences (even bad ones) nearly always have some redeeming features. This encounter was no different. You never know when you will be afforded a glimpse into the future.
I now know what it feels like to be in a cofffin- in a coffin with Jabba the Hut. Tight. Sweaty. Jabba consumed extra quantities of air, too. It seemed as if the pressurized air system had failed and I was breathing the thin air of Mt. Everest's base camp without external aid or reinforcement. Jabba did not speak - for eight hours. Occasionally he rose, with surprising
alacrity and ease, to relieve himself. Otherwise his bulk reclined in his chair - and one third of mine.
As I mentioned before, Janey darlin' slept well over the Atlantic. It was tougher for me. When he inhaled his bulk expanded and his one third of my seat expanded to 40%.
Oh well, It is all history now. I bear Jane no ill will. It wasn't her fault. Just remember, if she returns from Europe with no perfume and her head shaved: your dear old dad had nothing to do with it.
We left the hotel by cab at 4:30AM. There were still thousands of kids scattered along it's boulevard, at the end of a long night of reveling but not yeat ready for it to end. Youth has such stamina and such a lust for staying till the last dog dies.