Love and Flying (No, not THAT kind of "love")

I'm still really not used to this kind of life. It's taken me 3.25 years for me not to break into a sweat in the airport. OVER THREE YEARS. I didn't realize what was going on the entire time, I just always thought airports were really warm. No, I freak out. I remember once landing in Toronto en route to Edmonton and literally soaked my tshirt and I had to buy a new one in the airport. I could have used it to mop the floor with.

Add Louis into the mix and oh boy!!! Did we ever have some fireworks! I think the last time we flew back together, I made him a promise that I wouldn't cry for 48 hours. HA! I had a few tears and it was probably the most drama-free flight that we've ever had together. There have been flights where I boarded the plane in Montreal, BAWLED myself to sleep (we have those cool pods so no one could tell) and we started to speak to one another in Antananarivo - a mere like 30 hours later. And what we fight about? One person giving the other person attitude.

I am cranky - I spazz on Louis - Louis gets mad at me for spazzing - I get mad at Louis for getting mad at me - and BOOM!!! POW!!!!





OR, Louis is cranky - I take it completely personal and end up getting upset - He gets mad that he isn't allowed to be cranky after 3 hours of sleep and 9 hours of time change - I get upset that he's mad. SMASH!!! KABOOM!!!!

Fun times, hey?

It may have taken us two years before we started to figure out that we really had to be OVER-gentle to the other person. It works. (Actually whenever we find ourselves in a fighty kind of mood that lasts more than 3 hours, we declare a "Peace Week" where we're forcefully super nice to each other and then naturally we start to be naturally nicer and more patient with each other. I'm a huge fan of this Peace Week. It's also nice to think that if you force yourself to be nice to someone something changes inside and you naturally start to be nicer to them without trying).

So back to this flying thing. I LOVE the long flights and I detest the short flights. Flying to Joberg is a 3.5 hour flight and I hate it. I love it because we get ginger ale and usually a raspberry on top of a desert, but the three hours seems to drag on forever (especially since this time I thought I'd bring a book that requires a reading level over the 6th grade that doesn't look like a SEX IN THE CITY book).

All of our flights this time, we had one scaffufle (Louis says it doesn't qualify as a fight) and one incident where I thought he was the meanest husband in the world because we wouldn't give me his jacket (Um...I tend to lose things from pockets and get jackets dirty). Instead he gave me his blanket, but as I was sleep deprived, I *almost* (or for sure) half cried myself to sleep, then woke up and laughed at how incredibly dramatic and crazy I get from lack of sleep.


ANYWAY, we are here. We are trying to sleep a little bit so that we're not zombies all morning, and our hotel is freaking attached to a Second Cup and has valet parking (it's on Whyte Ave and there is zero parking).

Ok. I'm going to try to sleep again.

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