I just peeked out the window–pulled up the shade just a crack–and I could see the dark outline of the plane’s wing against the fog, which must mean it’s starting to get light out. We’re flying into morning. I’ve been tossing & turning for the last few hours. All around me are deep, even breaths and darkness, but I can’t quiet my brain. I envy those who’ve mastered the trick of sleeping sitting up. I alternate between hot & sweaty under the airplane blanket and frigid wherever it doesn’t cover me. I can just barely hear the noise from somebody’s airplane headphones turned up loud in the row in front of me–the volume has to be full blast to compensate for the roar of the jet and the crappy headphone quality. My right butt-cheek is asleep and I’m going to be a wreck my first day in Sao Paulo.
We left Sunday night, and we’ll arrive Tuesday morning. It’s true that we’re losing eight hours by traveling east, but that’s still a pretty gnarly night and day and night again of traveling, even with the catnaps. Adam, now would be a good time for me to subscribe to your crazy sleep experiment–