The Ransom of Mermaid Girl

I was full of posting ideas last night but spent my blogging window wrangling with the Aleeska Air online reservation to get us tickets to Los Angeles over the 4th of July Weekend. It took an hour and a half. On the flight down, we have three seats in three different rows; that's all that was left. What if no one wants to change seats, like in that David Sedaris article in the New Yorker last week? Well, I hope whoever's sitting next to Mermaid Girl likes chatting about butts and poop and nursing babies, because that's a big chunk of her conversational repertoire these days. Maybe we should encourage her to talk about extra-disgusting things; her seatmate would gladly agree to move to my lousy center seat, just to get away.

Seriously, someone will change seats, don't you think? I can just see MG sitting all alone, intently coloring at the tray table, politely telling the drinks service flight attendant that she'd like a cup of milk, please. She'd need help with the little bag of pretzels, though. She can't open those things by herself.