I rest my head on the back of an American Airlines middle seat. Squished on the left by my husband and the right by an unknown man, I squeeze my arms close to my side to minimize space appropriated. Seven hours in flight. Almost home.
Why do I subject myself to this form of 21st century torture? I am returning from a trip to the land of whiskey, the Loch Ness monster, kilts, Celts, clans, bagpipes, and wordsmiths. Enlightenment is the focus of my journey.
Arriving early in Edinburgh, cramped muscles and exhausted bodies demanded sleep. Our hotel room would not be ready for ...
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