A day without leg room II

About 90 minutes into the flight, seven miles above the wilds of Ontario-Quebec border, I am reminded that I'm not much of a long- distance flyer.  But then how many of us casual flyers are?  

I really could use some more leg room.  I tried sleeping while the plane seemed to taxi to New York before taking off, but I found myself shifting position every few minutes.  Even a neck pillow and cloth blackout shades don't help.  The underside of my left thigh is being particularly uncooperative.  I'd love to be able to fully stretch my legs and wiggle my toes. Not a chance of that unless I get up.

To while away the time before boarding our plane, JoAnna and I spent 2 hours at the bar of an airport restaurant, where most of the people sitting around us were traveling alone.  It was impossible not to eavesdrop on the various conversations taking place.  One young man described how he had traveled from Germany to Wisconsin to find work as a welder,  without any success apparently.  The more he talked, the more he seemed to be spinning a life out of thin air.  The other young man whom he engaged in conversation, and who seemed only to be able to ask questions, could have easily been mistaken for his brother.