“If there is anything we can do to make your flight more enjoyable , please don’t hesitate ask.”

Surely the flight attendant meant well, but really. Other than a box of Cracker Jacks; what could she have possibly done? I had already reached the comfort level of a sardine . The lady seated next to me I’d already poked in the ribs, inadvertently of course. Let me see; other than two obnoxiously loud kids, I had to wonder if the flight attendant had any duct tape.

Oh,yeah, a guy sat next Judy. He was the spitin’ image of Hank Williams Jr. Wirey beard, cowboy hat. Unbeknownst to me, as I was across the aisle, he had explained to Jude that he suffered from Scoliosis and tended to markedly droop in his chair. The flight proceeded.

Somewhere at 34,000 feet, I glance over and see Hank’s face practically planted in Jude’s lap. Surely this wasn’t part of the flight attendant’s repertoire to make the flight more enjoyable, or at least I hope not.

I reached over and poked Jude’s arm, my facial inflection questioning the oddity before me.

Jude whispered that it was okay. I, in turn, wondered how Hank got away with it. As he drooped, he definitely leaned left, which I hoped wasn’t the way he voted.

I mused to myself, and somehow invoked the old TV character of yesteryear, Maxwell Smart.

“Ah, yes, the old scoliosis trick.!”

ACROSS FLORIDA.

I’d made this trek before, but I can’t remember when. East to west, the slice through southern Florida offers a mixture of tangled underbrush, cow pastures, then gates and fine-trimmed lawns. The occasional marshy ground has alligators written all over it.

The names of a few cross-roads are drenched with local color. YeeHaw Junction gets it started. Really. How many folks do you know who are from YeeHaw Junction, Florida?

Then there’s Frost Proof . Imagine that I am an aspiring apricot farmer. Am I not immediately interested in a nice piece of ground in Frost Proof, Florida? Talk about apricot-friendly coordinates!

These names are reminiscent of past trips I’ve taken in the rural America. Perhaps there is only one Bald Knob, Arkansas or only one Maggie’s. Nipples, Colorado. I’ll stop there before rural America gets a bit too colorful.