Like almost half of the US population, I enjoy an annual trek home for the Thanksgiving holiday. My main destination is my grandparents’ farm in central West Virginia with stops at other friends and family all around the state. Normally I drive (something I actually look forward to), but this year I’m going to do something I’ve always dreaded based on the horror stories alone: fly.
It’s not the “getting to” that’s bad, because most of those trips are staggered throughout the week depending on your job and the vacation days you have off. It’s the “coming back from” that haunts you, when almost everyone has to get home by the Monday after. And should I somehow arrive on time (or close enough) unscathed and with all the bags I left with, what terrible airborne disease spread across the nation will I bring back to share with my friends and co-workers?
Yeah, kinda bored. Could ya tell?
Orignal From: From Jacksonville to Jackson County
Kevin A. Ranson : ThinkingSkull.com 