A mile high...

Last week I traveled to Denver for All Aboard Wheat Harvest training. All Aboard is a program that follows three custom harvesting families north from Texas during the summer wheat harvest. The neatest aspect of the program is a member of the crew (all three are unique)actually shares the custom harvesting lifestyle with the world. We have a blog allaboardharvest.com, we're on Facebook and Twitter.

If you're interested check it out, if not - well here is my adventure in being a business commuter - it's long, but it was a long day.

4 a.m. Slap the alarm in attempt to diffuse the melody of death.

4:30 a.m. Stumble to the shower, like a newborn feline, my eyes have yet to come open.

4:50 a.m. Depart for the airport, and then realize I am not sure where the airport is. Luckily the headlights catch a small matchbook size sign that directs me to where I need to be.

5:10 a.m. Arrive at the airport that also doubles as a television station, weather station and county storage facility. Check into the desk where the attendant behind the counter scratches my name off of a handwritten list with a Bic pen.

5:30 a.m. Get patted down in the security line consisting of my two colleagues, some random guy and me. This was not my first airport pat down, but was my first where three people watched.

5:45 a.m. Walk out the gate and spot the plane. This is where I contemplate what kind of assets I have and who will get them. I will my collection of NASCAR Literature to - well, nobody I know would really want to read it, what they will fight over is my financial portfolio of $34.

6:05 a.m. Taxi to the runway. All four of us anxiously await the 20 minute flight to our next stop, before heading on to the mile high city.

6:30 a.m. Land fifty miles away to pick up ten passengers to make a full load. Yep, 14 makes a full load.

7 a.m. Land in Denver, on the bottom level - at the end of the airport. Let the people watching commence. Spot the following: socks and jeweled flip flops, a pink tutu skirt on an 80 year-old woman, large woman eating a chicken leg and a Ray Charles look alike that tried to sell us a credit card.

8:30 a.m. Watch the hotel shuttle take off from island three as we step onto island one.

9:00 a.m. Second shuttle arrives and we are taken to the hotel, where a full day of social media, blogging and editorial discussions await.

4 p.m. Hop back on a shuttle bound for the airport.

4:15 p.m. Check in at the airline counter where the guy writes our gate number on a ticket with a sharpie, and our boarding pass looks like a McDonald's receipt.

4:30 p.m. Go through security where a loud and obnoxious woman on an obvious power trip, because of her stylish TSA uniform, screams at us to go to a shorter line. I want to flip her the bird, but am too tired to be hauled off to the little room and strip searched.

5 p.m. Make it through security and find a bar. Contemplate drinking ourselves stupid, but settle for a couple beers and a sweet tea - along with scrumptious edibles.

7 p.m. Make our way to our departing gate, and the second round of people watching begins. This round produces a barefoot woman running down the terminal, a guy throwing a fit when his flight was canceled and a dad feeding his three small children airport food (I witnessed him observe the three second rule - and everybody knows those rules are vetoed at airports, or any public venue).

7:33 p.m. Depart. Pilot warns us the weather is looking rough. Thought I was tough and he was full of poo - I was so wrong.

8:00 p.m. Will myself not to puke and mentally run through what I do if I fail to do so.

8:05 p.m. Locate air sick bag - just in case.

8:10 p.m. Say my rosary in my head, hoping that will ease the blow when I visit the pearly gates.

9 p.m. Land in stop one, pilot asks if anyone got sick. Wanted to give him the finger as well, but was afraid that motion would send me over the edge I was already clinging to.

9:30 p.m. Hold breath as pilot lets landing gear down and plane starts moving as if a toy in front of a box fan - on high.

9:45 p.m. Hug my toolbox as I reach my truck. LAND!

10:15 p.m. Finally get home and take an Alka-seltzer. Bedtime never felt so good.

Next up, Amtrak