So it was a little weird. In all those Victorian movies, people head to Bath. To take in the water and rejuvinate themselves. Maybe that’s what Palm Springs is like. Where all these old people sitting next to me at the gate go to rejuvinate. Maybe the dry air and sun help melt the chill from their bones… I wonder to myself as I watch 9 people require pre boarding wheelchair escorts to the aircraft. Or maybe money just means you don’t have to use your feet anymore. And I take my seat by the window and there are two old ladies infront of me, and old man next to me, and two more old ladies behind me. And all I smell is expensive perfume. I try to nap, but can’t. Instead I chug thru my easy reading book. One of those Chocolate Chip Cookie Murders, but with ghosts, and a full cast of movie star attractive characters, and cheesy dialogue. The flight is short and a glance out my window shows brown. Brown. Brown. I think I see the town below, but all the buildings are brown. Each tiny building with its own blue dot. Swimming pools. And then as we decend, I realize they’re not tiny houses, they’re huge houses. I watch the flaps extend on the flimsy looking wing of the plane, they rattle and bounce up and down, and I wonder if it’ll snap off. Plunging us into the dry desert sand below. The last thing I’ll see are huge rich people homes, and a nose full of old lady perfume… but we don’t. We touch, not so gently, down and the flight attendant welcomes us to Palm Springs, and I remember I just landed in California, not on Mars..