Things I learned on the trip from BWI to Denver to LA:
1. I figured that I needed to use high altitude during the layover, so I found an empty escalator and did reps with my backpack on. Yes, I used a down escalator. No, security did not look kindly upon my training. I feel as if this is a new low for me. And that is coming from a guy that once did pool running in a hot tub. Now it is time to do speed reps on the reverse direction of the moving sidewalk in the terminal. BONE DREAMCRUSHER SCOFFS AT YOUR OVER-SIZED CONVEYOR BELTS.
2. Elbow rolls exist, and they do not treat armrests very kindly. The buttons to control the TV volume were under there, which made watching my seat neighbor adjust the audio on "Two and a Half Men" like like watching a particularly enthusiastic chef flip a ham and cheese omelet.
3. I now have a whole new and rejuvenated respect for people that are members of the mile-high club. I had difficulty using the bathroom for its designed purpose; having sexual relations in there is pretty much the same as playing Jenga in a motorcycle sidecar. Though there is the benefit of added motion, I guess. It is like one of those vibrating beds, only if they were equipped with a randomly activated "1906 San Fransisco" setting to account for turbulence.
4. People can really be amazing. The woman across the aisle was an Ivy League grad, and was flying to Denver to run a children's center. It almost took Dick Cheney interrogation techniques (also known as "the most dangerous game") to get those details out of her, and that was only because she modestly felt as if it were her duty to serve. Aside from that, she was a karate black belt and very serious chef. I made a joke about using nun'chucks to chop onions, and it took her a second to smile. I prefer to believe that isn't because the joke sucked, but because she cooks like Raphael from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fights.
5. Running on the beach in Malibu, followed by recovery sushi and wine is a pretty great experience. If there is anything running in the 70 degree sun taught me, it's that seasons can suck it.