We made it to California, safe and all in one piece. No hijackers. No spawn of Satan appearing on the plane. Not even a little electromagnetic anomaly to shake the plane out of the sky and make it land on an island in the middle of nowhere*. And for all of this, we're happy.
The sedative worked beautifully on Dexter, which is a good thing because of the whole having to take him out of his bag at the security checkpoint thing. I on the other hand, was not doing so well with the thought of holding the 15 pound skittish animal in a public place. But it was nothing a little Rescue Remedy couldn't handle. Calmed my heartbeat right down. Suspect people, suspect.
The flight itself was fairly uneventful. Except for Mr and Mrs Harvard Business School who insisted on making out 12 inches from my face. Her seat was reclined (right in front of me) and he thought it best to share the seat with her...er, on her? If you're thinking that would be really uncomfortable to sit behind, well...you'd be completely right.
Here's a picture of me and Dexter, tired from being awake since 12 am west coast time (Herman didn't go to bed at all that night). Me, suffering from being horribly allergic to California. Dexter being completely resigned to having to spend the rest of his days in a bag.
*Which in and of itself would be very strange considering we were flying over land the whole time. Although I can imagine being stranded in the middle of Kansas would be pretty horrible. No offense Kansas. The middle states just frighten me a little.