TOTALLY WIRED
Bones jiggled by turbulence, brain numbed via SkyMall, nose twitchy with the smell of my neighbor’s peanut breath and secret farts, I am lost. My hand reaches for my lone salvation, a ladybug-sized nub on the armrest labeled map. The little seat-back screen lights up with a fetching 3D rendering of our plane—there’s me and you, Gail the gassy librarian, in row 27!—gliding over a bumpy, russet and tawny patch of Wamsutter, Wyoming. We are 36,572 feet up, traveling at 197 degrees due west-southwest at 542 miles an hour. Rejoice, for I am found. FlightPath3D, you confection of cartography, code, and cartoonery, the only travel buddy I need. I zoom in, and—courtesy of crowdsourced reviews in ecstatic cahoots with the GPS—greater Wamsutter beckons: At the Dusty Trail Cafe, Sheryl S.’s companion,…