Isms of Mark

Deciding what seats to choose since there were no two next to each other left on our plane to New York to pick up the sprinter van we bought off ebay (btw, that happened):

Mark: Do you wanna sit in front of me, or behind me?
H: I dunno, do you want to stare at the back of my head the whole time or get poked and prodded by me the whole time?
M: ....I wanna stare at the back'a yo head...like the creeper I am.

At least we're realistic about it.

Here's hoping we can coerce a fellow friendly red-eyer to switch seats anyway so I can sleep on his shoulder rather than feel his eyes bore holes into my skull as I avoid all arm rests and attempt to not drool on anybody who isn't featured on my marriage license.
Here also goes cheering on the New York weather forecast to pull up a few notches in the degrees region. We leave the night of the 21st and so far the interwebz says it gets to a high of 43 by the 16th. No more storms till February please! This Arizona girl might not be able to handle a New York winter.