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Dipshitty little plane took me to Fort Myers for my connecting flight to DC.

Hot day, bright sun, and from my window seat I marveled at all the velvet green islands lying flat under white clouds.

“Drug-runners paradise!” I said to my seatmate, who a few moments ago had described his sky diving trips to me.

He couldn’t hear me. Plane got real loud as we leaned toward Ft. Myers, and then it shook like a son of a bitch. “Sein ZOOM Tode,” thought UD, who doesn’t like to fly.

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