Your friends want to take a week-long vacation to somewhere warm, with a beach and sand and drinks with frilly umbrellas.
You tell your friends that the trip sounds like fun, and then you think, oh, that means getting on a plane. Suddenly you remember you agreed to take care of Aunt Greta’s Weimariner that week, and you tell your friends, so sorry, you can’t go.
Crasstonians, do you get on a commercial flight, even though the very idea fills you with dread? Do you board the plane, plop yourself down and get your drink on while you hit on the stranger sharing your armrest? Or do you prefer to travel by car or bus or train rather than ascending to the troposphere?
