Saturday, November 17, 2012

Flight from New York to Las Vegas, noon, left side of the plane.

At 32,000 feet, there are ice crystals on my window and we're flying above snow-covered peaks. Yet the sun through my window is so relentlessly hot and strong that I have to keep the shade down, and when I touch it, it burns me.

I usually take the position of the sun into consideration when choosing my plane seat, but this time, common sense eluded me! I feel like a rotisserie chicken.