Jet Lag is pure evil...
Popping out of an aluminum tube after monotonous hours screaming through the sky, there's an invisible brick wall lurking beyond passport control. Probably invented along side some of the more sinister torture regiments used in mideaval executions in dank filthy dungeons, this side effect of the modern marvel of air travel is harder to shake off than a cozy dose of influenza...
Oh, and it's also known by its more common name, Jet Lag.
If you haven't had it, you cant understand it. There is no such thing as more wide awake or more exhausted than while in the grip of it: colors burn brighter, but youve taken no pill; darkness lurks darker, but youve fallen down no well; sounds ricochet around your head like bullets, but youre in no hostage crisis.
Jet Lag is evil, full stop.
And no drug can cure it. No amount of prevention can avoid it. Long hours of whining and dining, inflight entertainin', are all overshadowed by the inevitable trapdoor that opens soon after collecting your bags. It yawns, waiting as nonplussed as the grim reaper himself, just waiting, and waiting.
And unlike that Wile E Coyote, Jet Lag always gets it's prey.
