Cramped Quarters

I'm going to reveal a truth that you may find very surprising. Being cramped into a 4 foot cell for the better part of a week for an interplanetary trip is not good for your mental health. Okay, maybe not that surprising. Forgive me as I try to work out my brain muscles again. They atrophy very quickly, it appears.

There are those who had it “worse” than me, shipping in the coffins below the main deck. They at least had the fortune of being dead. They didn't really need the extra space. And of course there were plenty of others on the same ship. I doubt any of the others were six-foot-seven, though. There aren't a lot of us who grew up on Medea. Even fewer of us ever leave.

Oh, did I mention the ship was built to transport Carlaxi? They average about five feet as adults. So none of the fixtures or amenities, such as they were, really came to the correct scale, either.

Okay, I'm just dwelling now. The trip is done. I have at least a week on land to try to work out all the cramps in my back and legs. If I'm lucky, this place will even have a proper masseuse. My last landing point didn't have anything that qualified unless you were looking for “happy endings.” Not really my style and certainly not what I'm in the mood for now.

I can hear my parents now, questioning why in Heaven I wanted to become an interplanetary salesman. At times like this, I struggle to remember the answer.