
A Fresh Start
September 22, 2004
By Raul Groom
It's amazing how little there is to do on an airplane. Look out the window, spend ten dollars on two shots of cheap whiskey, take a wobbly piss in a tiny bathroom that smells of Listerine and some sort of rose-tinged garbage that sprays out into the air when you flush. That pretty much covers it.
Not exactly the ninth circle of hell, certainly, but not enough to keep even a moderately stable adult human brain engaged for five hours on a Thursday afternoon trip to San Francisco, erstwhile heart of that faded chimera, the American Dream.
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