Friday, December 7, 2007. 5:30 estimated departure time. 7th on line. Among my Grey-peers: a moustachioed woman. A very moustachioed woman.

My seatmate reads the New York Times as if we're in bed on Sunday morning. Hitting my arm with every page turn, paper rustling against my leg. I already read the paper, so I don't even care to scan the headlines. I watch Perfume: The Story of a Murderer. I play Diner Dash on my phone. I read the biography of Judith Jones -- she was the the editor of Julia Child's cookbooks.

Seatmate eats Soy Crisps, a smelly kind -- I believe Cheddar.

No rest stop.

Arrive in DC half an hour earlier than expected.


Sunday, December 9, 2007. 12:01 estimated departure time. I'm on the tail-end of the line. A nun is near the front. I consider this a positive sign. Unless she's a church runaway. Then our busload has no redeeming qualities.

Seatmate is friends with person sitting behind him. He reads OK! magazine. I watch The French Chef, starring my Julia Child. I play Diner Dash. I read Fables. I eat a Hummus and Veggie Sandwich. I don't care if my raw onions and cucumbers smell, okay I do. I do care. I notice the woman in front of me shifting positions. I wonder, is the smell bothering her? I decide not to care. I also decided that my sandwich smell didn't compare to someone else's food. I didn't catch the name of the movie, but quickly lost interest in the inspirational sports story -- high school or college swimmers, a tough coach, nothing I care about. Back to Fables and Diner Dash. I won the last level, except it's not the last level. More Diner Dash for me -- now its a seafood restaurant, and exactly the same as when it wasn't a seafood restaurant.

Arrive in New York at 3:28. Earlier than anticipated.