You know that point on a longish flight where you start quietly freaking out because you just want to MOVE and stand and go to the bathroom without crawling over the lap of a stranger and you feel gross and don’t want to take even one more breath of the recycled air and you might MURDER your husband because he’s watching a movie but still taps you every five seconds to either mime something or speak WAY too loudly because he’s wearing earbuds?

Yeah, that.

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