Size does matter.
When it comes to Alaska, everyone knows that everything is bigger. Everything except for the cramped Economy class seat that I'm sitting in on my flight to Anchorage. Nothing but a flimsy armrest is keeping the kind lady seated next to me from oozing into my personal man-space.
However, Juneau that this is the last time I'll be cramped on this trip. Only a Homer doesn't Nome that Alaska is the biggest state in the US, and I'll have plenty of room to roam. Kenai tell you how excited I am to get there? My Haines are all in a wad, and I can't Barrow the suspense. If you don't think Alaska is unbelievable, you are in Denali. I'm looking forward to the State Fair, where you can do everything from admire enormous pumpkins to watch professionals give a bear a body piercing or give a Yakutat. I might have to Wrangell for a place to Sitka at a few events, and hopefully I don't end up near anyone who smells like open Seward. I should probably stop at a store and Ketchikan of Axe Body Spray to take with me, just in case. I don't mean to beat a Deadhorse, but I Kiana can't wait to arrive.
Thus far, this is quite possibly the corniest blog entry I've ever written.
Somebody, please pry this laptop from my hands.
I seem to have digressed from what matters: Size. Length, width, girth: Alaska has it all. One would assume that significant shrinkage would occur due to the cold, but Alaska has managed to retain its original size.
I once saw a t-shirt with the outline of Alaska encompassing the outline of Texas, with the caption "Ain't Texas Cute?"
Did you know that the land area of the city limits and borough of Juneau, Alaska's capital, are larger than Rhode Island and Delaware combined? And that Juneau is only Alaska's third-largest city by area?
You could fit over five Oregons neatly inside Alaska's boundaries.
Sorry, Texas. You got pwned.
I'm actually more excited for our three days off in Alaska than I am for our two Alaska State Fair shows, our radio appearance, and our Anchorage concert. Glaciers, mountains, fjords, and, of course, America's #1 threat, bears!
I'm also pretty excited to share with you the fact that Russell, my bandmate in Crown Point, a grown man of sound mind in his 20s, literally just learned about four hours ago that the plural of "moose" was, in fact, not "meese". True story.
And now, to pressing public health issues: How is it possible that cigarette smoking is banned on domestic flights, while it's perfectly legal to open and consume noxious containers of garlic-ridden potato salad, of questionable freshness, at will? C'mon lady, I'm dying here.
Through a break in the clouds, I can see massive Mt. Fairweather. Our kind flight attendant has just informed us that "it's that magic hour where we get to put away our electronic devices." What are we, twelve? "Jonny, have we cleaned our room?" "Mom, if this is a team effort, you certainly haven't done your part." And magic hour? Does my laptop disappear when I put it in the case? What am I going to see? Rabbits? Unicorns? A bag of mystery cocaine miraculously appear in Paris Hilton's purse?
Alaska, here I come. Something tells me that amidst your unbelievably massive natural beauty, I'll be reminded of how small we really are, yet how much our lives really matter.