Seattle has a place for planes to go part 2: The Layover

Back in Seattle for an extended layover. This time coming home. I like this airport, the seats are comfortable, there are plenty of places to stop off and have a pint when you are stuck there for multiple hours. I only have a few minutes to kill here before boarding a flight to Detroit, where I may or may not get stabbed. It's really a 50/50 proposition at this point.

Back in Alaska last night, the guy I was working for won, not that it means anything. I think that his Freshman term as US Senator will be relatively ineffective, as none of the established legislators are going to listen to some young whipper snapper and his big ideas for Alaska. If he's lucky, he'll get on some committee and make a splash large enough to get him reelected in 2020, and then he will actually be able to do something in the Senate other than collect a large paycheck,

I stayed up all night again, just like the way out, in hopes of sleeping on the plane. NOPE. In fact, I had a mild anxiety attack and started sweating like a fool. I had a window seat for fucks sake, I should have been a content little fatty and snoozed the flight away. NOPE. Not this guy, this guy isn't getting to sleep until he reaches his own bed. At, I assume, 1 Thursday morning, a full 44 hours after I slept last. Nothing good is coming out of that 

I have to get out of here now, as my plane is getting ready to board and some hippie is playing a flute in the terminal. 

See you in CT.

SD