Back...with shorter hair.

Whenever someone asks me, "Did you get your hair cut?" I just want to answer "No, I didn't" with a completely straight face and see how they react. I've never quite managed it.
The plane trip here was longer than most, but uneventful...except for one thing. I hate airplane pilots who think they're amateur comedians. It's cruel and unusual punishment directed towards passengers, who board the plane expecting a peaceful flight and end up an unwilling audience on which the pilot tests his (or her) new material. Not only that, they're the most captive audience imaginable. If they can't take any more of the pilot's attempts to inject levity into such subjects as drop-down oxygen masks and cruising altitude, tough luck--they're trapped in a metal cylinder thousands of miles above ground. I guess some pilots think their passengers won't be so stressed about flying if the person flying the plane has a sense of humor. I feel the opposite. I'd rather my pilot concentrate on, you know, not crashing and all that, than on thinking up new ways to make cargo shift funny. In fact, the funnier the pilot, the more nervous I get.
On the bright side, there were no vibrating toothbrush mishaps this time. Airport security did end up confiscating my Swiss Army knife, which was in a forgotten pocket of my carry-on. I'd had no idea it was in there until they pulled my bag from out of the X-ray machine and started rifling through it. Which is funny, because I hadn't used it over break, meaning that it was in my backpack when I flew home a month ago. Says something about Ontario Airport's security. Either that, or with my shorter hair I looked more like a terrorist.