So I don't like turbulence. Check that. I loathe it. Disregard my tongue-in-cheek comments from March. Turbulence universally sucks.
And tubulence loathers like me consistently have to suffer on the flight into Denver. Over the Rockies, the plane bucks and shakes like some whacked out bull in the ring. I'm looking around for the rodeo clown and a barrel. This past Tuesday, we were in full bounce mode. The girls are screaming. Amy has her eyes closed. I'm about to soil myself, when after one particularly nasty bump, next to me Josh yells out:
"Oh yeah, baby. Wahoo! Ka-chow!"
Guess the apple not only falls far from the tree, it's in another orchard...
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