In an airplane, you must think like a woodchuck.
I need to stretch my legs, to keep my hamstrings from recoiling. Otherwise, on deplaning, I walk like a 500-year-old. So, in my aisle seat, I stretch my feet out into the aisle, or at least one foot, and straighten the leg and tip the toes toward me. Nice stretch.
Where’s the woodchuck you say? Every time someone goes by, I need to withdraw my leg, wait for them to pass, and stick it out again. And again and again.
Just like the woodchucks I used to have who kept trying to get into my garden. I had put up a wire fence and they got in under the gate. I put a rock there. Still too much space and fat woodchucks somehow squished themselves and got in.
I’d complain to my husband. He said: What else has he to do, but get into your garden?
Oh. In summer, woodchucks have almost nothing to do but eat and look for more to eat.
So, what have I to do on the plane but stick my foot out and pull it back in? And maybe, like a woodchuck, I eat and drink a little.