To Sweatpant Or Not To Sweatpant

My friend asked if I wore sweats on my international flight to Malta.

I did not.

Writerly = Being Published?

I had in my mind a totally inaccurate vision of starting up a conversation with my fellow passengers about my writing.  After sharing with them the brief, but intriguing premise, of Tears of Heaven (pre-order today!) they would be so excited that they’d want to know more.  BAM!  I’d pass out the business cards I’d brought along with links to my blog.

In that increasingly inaccurate vision, I needed to look the writerly part.  So, I wore a button down shirt and cargo pants with my urban hikers.  Of course, that was without knowing I’d be hiking three miles across parking lots in a mad dash to make my flight.

Nothing says “writer” like an American soaked in sweat on a 15-hour plane flight.

International plane rides are just like domestic flights, only longer.  This means most everyone wants to be left alone, to read, play Candy Crush, sleep and have the flight attendant pick up their garbage in a timely fashion.

No one asked if I was a writer or if I had a pending book release.

Those knights sure knew how to make a cross!

I tried to find sweatpants for the trip back. First, I tried to find them in Scotland, because SCOTLAND on your sweatpants means no one is going to screw with you.  It’s the next best thing to wearing a kilt and a claymore.  Alas, I failed.

Then I tried to find some in Malta. My first thought was get the St. John eight-point cross. Not as effective as a claymore, but easier to get through security. Again, utter failure.

I wore cargo pants on the flight back, but this time with a tech running shirt and my Disney-themed hockey jersey.  On the full sweatpants comfort level (1 being a suit of armor and 10 being Demirol-infused bliss) I was at a 7.5.

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