Sunset, somewhere between Denver and Scottsbluff.

After stuffing ourselves on the free dinner buffet, Paul and I returned to our room. We were tired. We wanted to go home. We needed to get ready for the next day, just in case our flight was canceled again.

Since I wasn’t going to be eating again tonight, I went into the hotel bathroom to brush my teeth. “Damn it,” I yelled. “I don’t have any toothpaste.” That audible thought was quickly followed by another. I didn’t have any deodorant left either.

I had carefully planned my trip, as I do all trips, so that I don’t have to carry toothpaste or deodorant back home with me. That least space for more chocolate, which is more important. Fortunately, the hotel had free toothbrushes and toothpaste. They did not have deodorant.

“It’s okay,” I thought to myself. “I’ll just be sitting on a plane for most of the next day. What could go wrong?”

Since our rooms had two single beds, I stretched out on mine and began flipping channels on the television. The Holiday Inn we booked had better options. There was no World Cup. The news channels sucked. I kept flipping. Eventually, I landed on a show talking about plane crashes. Ah, the perfect thing to watch before climbing back aboard a plane tomorrow that wasn’t air worthy today.

The show was about United Airlines Flight 585, a passenger flight that crashed on March 3, 1991. It was traveling from Denver to Colorado Springs, Colorado, carrying 20 passengers and 5 crew members on board. “Why didn’t those people just drive?” I mumbled. The plane began its journey in Illinois, so I guess that makes sense, but, back to the show.

The plane experienced a rudder hardover while on final approach to runway 35 at Colorado Springs Municipal Airport, causing the plane to roll over and enter an uncontrolled dive. There were no survivors.

Well, shit. Our pilot was having problems with his rudder pedal. I sat up a little bit and started paying attention to the show. The National Transportation Safety Board couldn’t find any reason for the crash. After USAir flight 427 crashed under similar circumstances, the NTSB reopened their investigation.

The official explanation was the pilots lost control because of a mechanical malfunction.

The rudder surface most likely deflected in a direction opposite to that commanded by the pilots as a result of a jam of the main rudder power control unit servo valve secondary slide to the servo valve housing offset from its neutral position and overtravel of the primary slide.

I started to think maybe the folks at San Francisco were right when they told him not to fly. I would still rather be home, but not dead in the Pacific Ocean. The ocean is vast and they would never find any bits of me. Sharks, whales, and other things that like humans would eat me. Such is the circle of life. Not today, however. I was sitting in a dank hotel room breathing mildew. Yay, me.

The next morning, Paul and I returned to a breakfast buffet. We wanted to stuff ourselves, but were still mostly full from dinner. I would come to regret this later as I had forgotten how terrible most airline food is to eat.

After taking a shower, I was confident I could go a day without deodorant and no one would notice.

A plane takes off from Hong Kong International Airport as we wait for our plane to finish boarding. I hope I’m going home today.

As we taxi down the runway and I get my hopes up that the flight won’t be canceled, I notice the cabins that we were on a week ago that take you up to see the Big Buddha and the Po Lin Monastery.

Our pilot gets on the intercom to welcome us aboard. “We’re glad you came back to fly with us today,” he said. Uh, we didn’t have a choice dude. You have almost everyone’s luggage. “In case you are wondering why your flight number changed, your flight from yesterday is still delayed. We couldn’t get the rudder pedal stuck.”

Everyone laughed. I thought, “This damned plane better fly then.”

Holy Crap! We took off. Goodbye Hong Kong.

Fluffy white clouds over the Pacific Ocean.

The biggest chunk of our journey was flying over the Pacific Ocean. I napped for a short while, but was mostly awake the entire flight. I could still smell the shampoo in my hair and the hotel soap. No need to worry just yet.

I turn the airline movie channel to watch Wonder Woman again.

Near the end of the film, our dinner arrived. I glared at Paul. I wanted to yell, “Can you believe this? This is food?”

This is a good dinner, according to United Airlines. I call it, “shit you’re forced to eat on a plane.” I wish I was on an Emirates Airlines flight right now.

There was no need to yell. Paul opted for the beef. He, too, was suffering.

This was Paul’s dinner option. I’m not sure whose food tasted worse.

I had begun to smell the fact that I did, indeed, need some deodorant. I was on a plane. There wasn’t any. Nine hours had passed since I had taken a shower. I began to wonder if I would have been better off not taking a shower. Would my Secret have lasted more than a day? I’ll never know.

I decided to not move too much. That would surely solve the problem. Logic does not work on a plane.

I flipped through the movie options again. It doesn’t matter if I have seen Blade Runner 2049 three times already. I will watch it again. When that was over, I watched Hostiles. It’s an incredible movie. I would have changed the ending, but I can’t say how. To do so would spoil the movie for those who have not seen it.

Breakfast was delivered a little over halfway through the movie. I looked at it. There was no way I was touching the sausage. Paul ate it. He will eat almost anything.

This was breakfast. Is it any wonder I am starving?

There’s a good chance I won’t die over the Pacific Ocean now. Next up: The Rocky Mountains.

I spent my time in the air between San Francisco and Denver trying to not draw attention to my lack of deodorant and staring out the window. I’m not sure how convincing I was, but at least people were polite enough to not say anything.

We landed in Denver on an uneventful flight. Paul and I gathered our things and exited our plane. We walked for what had to be a mile through Denver International Airport and into the depths where the smaller planes’ gates were located. We purchased overpriced sandwiches and tried to relax a little bit during our two-hour layover. Paul had now picked up on my scent.

“Wow. Seriously. You should have had extra deodorant like I did,” he said. Thanks, Paul. I’ve been regretting it for the last 12 hours or so. I know. I can’t get away from it. He smiled at me with a grin that said, “I really want to laugh at you and say more, but I don’t want to die.”

I pulled out my laptop to quickly check my email. When I looked up to see if our flight was still on time, I noticed the gate had been changed. Luckily, it was only a few gates away. We moved closer to the gate and I began to spread my arms out to get some fresh air.

As we boarded, the gate agent told me I had too many items. I looked at him with a New York stare. He leaned back, smiled, and let me go. Yeah, there are only 15 people on this flight. I think an extra bag of chocolate isn’t going to be a problem.

The sun begins to set on our journey home.

As we found our seats, the pilot told us the weather was a bit choppy, so if you needed to pee, do it now because he wasn’t going to turn the seat belt sign off during the flight. As Paul and settled in for our 28 minute flight, he leaned in closer to me and said, “Oh my god. Is that you?”

“Shut up.”

“You need a shower.”

“I know, dumbass.”

He started laughing. “That’s what you get for not being prepared. Man, you stink.”

“And yet you married me.”

We both laughed, resigned to the fact that I would be smelling up the back end of the plane for the next half an hour.

I don’t share these kinds of snacks with anyone, not even Paul. So, in addition to cake and French fries, if you want to get me something, purchase some milk chocolate with hazelnuts. Just don’t expect me to give you any.

We arrived in Scottsbluff safely. We found our car right were my friend, Amber, said she had parked it. I flexed my arms as I placed them on the steering wheel.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Paul said. I did it again, then shifted into gear and drove away.

After tossing our bags onto the couch, I took a shower. Then, I applied about eight day’s worth of deodorant. I got dressed and headed downstairs. One of Paul’s chocolate bars had melted on the plane, so we tossed it in the refrigerator. To be safe, the rest of the chocolate went in there, too. The fridge now had a gallon of milk and about ten pounds of chocolate.

Since it was Sunday, and I had to work the next day, I had to do laundry. I tossed in a little bit extra Tide. I convinced myself that would help clean the clothes better.

As Paul and I were putting everything away, he gave me a kiss and a hug. With his arms still wrapped around me, he said, “Did you take a shower?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I think I would know.”

“Well, I’m just asking because I’m not too sure.”

“Thank you so much,” I said facetiously.

“I’m just saying, you should be prepared for your public tomorrow,” he said. “You should always look and smell nice.”

“Yeah, uhm, thanks for your support.”

He laughed and gave me another kiss. We finished putting all our stuff away, folded the laundry and headed upstairs. The clock read 12:37 a.m. I had to be at work the next day by 8 a.m.

By the time I plopped into bed, I had been awake for 36 hours. There was still a faint whiff of the previous day that emanated through my deodorant. It wasn’t anything another shower in five hours and plenty of Secret couldn’t fix.