The air has long since become stale. My eyes can no longer focus on the tiny words printed in the book. They dance about the page, jeering me, mocking me. I fiddle with the air nozzle, but it has not miraculously begun working somehow. I push the assistance button.
BUM!
The stewardess answers, "Do you need anything sir?"
"Susan," I don't actually remember the name she gave while demonstrating how a seatbelt works, "Susan, I am ready to get off."
"I'm sorry sir, but we don't land in Johannesburg for another six hours."
My final shred of sanity crumbles into dust.
There actually weren't ANY air nozzels! Everything else was essentially accurate concerning my flight to Johannesburg.
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