Dateline: Los Angeles. At 32,000 feet, no one can hear you scream.

When coming to the Dream Factory, no matter what your city of origin, be sure to fly Delta where they guarantee not one, not two, but apparently a minimum of six screaming babies per flight. And not just your run-of-the-mill crying kids mind you, but full-on hysterical banshee type stuff. If these sounds were heard coming from the inside of a double-wide, there’d be a DHR S.W.A.T. team lobbing in tear gas grenades and tearing the door off with an H2’s wench. But for some reason, in a 737 wide body somewhere over the New Mexico desert, the accepted behavior is to try to ignore it. Baffling.

So far this trip has been everything I could have hoped for.