Heading back to the corn states

It’s been a long day for the willis. Awfully long, as a matter of fact. There’s nothing that I’d like right now, (within reason) more than seeing my wife, and life -- as it appears -- is conspiring against me. If it’s not one thing it’s another, and it all ultimately culminates into a flight originally set to leave at 7:37p canceled. This leaves me with only one option jockey for position to get into the next flight. Usually this isn’t a problem when given proper notice, however FREAKIN’ AMERICAN AIRLINES decided that information dissemination wasn’t a high priority issue for their passengers. Hence, no notices were given. I’m sure if it weren’t for the kindly lady frustrated by the increasing informative mayhem that is the great communication conduit, American Airlines, I too would be watching this flight take off from the Miami D Terminal instead of on this plane, barely escaping the clutches of Miami International Airport.
Here I am on this flight with literally the last ticket available. I feel inextricably tied to one mr. Jimmy Buffet in Last mango in paradise and his last ticket out of Saigon. Miami International may not be Saigon, but I sure am glad I’m outta’ there.
Uncomfortably, I am sitting in this airline seat squished between the passing airline attendants who seem to enjoy without restraint careening into me as they pass by my seat, the very last in the airplane, and an extremely nice lady with two young boys, both of whom I fear will wake up with every deft stroke of my fingers upon the keypad – that is until the airline stewardesses drop what sounds like a 15 lb wieght from their little drink car – maybe my screen isn’t helping matters any (I just realized I can dramatically decrease the brightness of my screen, maybe he’ll sleep a little easier now.)

In case, I hadn’t mentioned this yet, I miss my wonderful bride. It’s true... I am being a pansy, but I miss my bride. I miss talking to her, looking at her, laughing with/at her, getting frustrated by things she says, pushing her buttons, and even hearing her get mad at me. I’ve decided that though this makes me a wussy, it is well with me to be so. The Reason you ask, Simple: I’m a newlywed and this is just what newlyweds do. Personally, I’d want it no other way.
The trip in a nutshell:
In full anticipation of what questions are to come I’m going to devise my answers right here, and right now.
1. How was your time in jacksonville? Awesome.
2. What did you do? All kinds of stuff.
3. How was it seeing your friends? Awesome.
4. Did you want to come back home? Look OUT!!! a baseball!!
It’s at this point that my great escape from the conversation will be made thereby evading any real emotional discussions concerning the great inescapable questions that invariably create such incredible tension between vacationing and transitioning back into reality.
Honestly, there’s still too much, too far from the surface to pull down onto the paper below... besides, I’m getting pooped out.