In Flight

I hate people who can just sleep on planes.

I can go (and have gone) 36 hours without sleep, and then still not been able to sleep on a red-eye to New York.

Red-eyes. Brilliant idea, poor execution. That is, unless you do have somewhere to live when you arrive. If I had an apartment in New York, I’d be fine. I could go there, six AM, from the airport, sleep six hours and still power lunch with my intellectual gifted yet financially successful and generous friends.

You know. People who’re good at things and not overly faithful to the free market system, but are somehow able to morally enjoy the benefits.

God.

I hate people who can sleep on planes.