Home again, Home again, Jiggety-Jog

published by Fran Shea

I sampled purgatory (again)… this time at Logan airport. I guess if I was jogging in place for five hours I’d like to be blasted with cold air from a ceiling vent. And if I wanted to watch a Surrealist film, I would have used my precious data and Boingo wifi to stream Volume I of the Anthology of Surreal Cinema on Netflix.

But like a group of shipwrecked strangers, bobbing in a life raft in the middle of the Atlantic, we were trapped together. Trapped and forced to watch a grown woman giving life to a humanoid using only her bare hands.

Anyway, flight 244 may have been delayed but it took off with little fanfare. Passengers boarded like zombies, sans bloody mouths.

I wish I would have thanked that needle-felting woman and I’ll probably never seeĀ again, but I’ll never forget her.

Here is a thank you card that has nothing to do with her or the travel odyssey.

 

 

1 thought on “Home again, Home again, Jiggety-Jog”

  1. I loved needle felting for a while. Laugh if you must, but you can make the cutest things. Granted, it serves no purpose. I need to get back to it.

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