After Gate travel, time-zone-jumping jet lag is a piece of cake. I’m so kumfumbled when I get back it takes three days to know what day it is- or who I am!
For a one-day jaunt to P3X989, factoring in planetary drift, shift, rotation, floatation, ah hell, ask Carter, Gate travel, well, sucks most of the time. Talk about discombobulated. I feel like I’m meeting myself coming around when we step off the ramp.
But as I watch Sam waiting to pluck her suitcase from the airport conveyor, I realize there is a redeeming quality. It packs a terrific adrenaline rush.