Saturday, July 28, 1984

Everything went well on the first flight out of Nashville into Denver. My ex-beau only flies completely drunk or stone cold sober. We had five minutes to spare when we got on the airplane at 1:25PM. My ex-beau ordered four beers at once and stayed inebriated during the flight. All was well. About one-half hour before landing, I got motion sickness. It was the bumpiest flight, commercial or private, I've ever been on. I logically know that the bumpiness is caused by hot and cold air pockets, but my stomach doesn't listen to my mind. After un-boarding, we went to a bar in the airport and got a beer. Everything was still okay! We only had about a fifteen minute wait for our next plane connection from Denver. After we boarded our plane, it was grounded for over an one-half hour before we took off. By that time, my ex-beau was a raving maniac. Not Good!

A friend of my ex-beau, Star, was waiting to pick up us at the Albuquerque airport, even though we were over an hour late. We all went to a private club that Star's husband, Max, belongs. I was still too tired to enjoy much of anything. Star dropped us off at my ex-beau's rented house; I crashed and he passed out.