I'm going to be So, This is the great red threat and up that's definitely not it because the next line is my name is Jackson. Where's where's your story? I don't see it. The height part above it. Yeah, yeah, yeah. There it is. Yeah.

Okay. You're sitting in a small confined seat cramped. The air is dry, your neck aches.

Each vibration that runs through the seat reminds you of your innate misery.

A person behind you sputters out a raspy rattling cough. A baby cries loudly somewhere in the distance

and you feel pity for the people closer to the unending noise. The air is so dry and all you can

think about is that you're surrounded by at least 100 other people

suffering the same existence.

Just sitting alone together in a cramped tube full of other people's farts.

It's not a thought you want to have, so you attempt to push it from your mind.

Your seatmate nudges you, not with intent, but with a careless shuffling of a person similarly

stuck in a

other seat mate an elderly old man snores a friendly but overworked voice ceases your

attention would you care for a drink um what are the options well we have

lukewarm water deflatedlated soda. I guess I'll have the soda.

That'll be 799, hun. Never mind. I'll just take the water. She hands you the water in a

small plastic cup. You can't help but think about how man's

greatest and arguably most impressive invention has fallen victim to the

throes of capitalistic greed. Here you are in the sky, hurtling at speeds and heights that would literally be inconceivable

to a medieval farmer, and all you can think about is how unpleasant the experiences.

This desperate for some form of mental relief you come across one such saving grace.

It could be worse.

You could be flying in a bow and relief washes over you, knowing that as unenjoyable the

...