Traveling

So I just got back from Montréal (where I got to practice the same French phrase over and over again: "Pardon, mais j' ne parle pas francais"; I am not even so sure this is how you are supposed to say it) and came to the conclusion that something hideously insidious happens every time I am going to fly anywhere. There was a girl in high school who I once hooked up with but then mistreated afterwards. For fear that she may be reading this one day, let's call her
Patty. So apparently, Patty must now work for US Airways. Every time she sees that I have a flight booked, she apparently sends a gigantic bean burrito to whoever will be in the seat next to me. Every. Single. Time.