is it called airsickness, or skybound sea sickness

So, last night I finally flew into OK city at 12:45...in the morning! The flight had been delayed so many times that I was just grateful to get on at Denver (that airport is cold. AND, they don't have any good places to grub. AND, there aren't that many weirdos roaming around inside of it - what am I suppose to look at for four hours, while my flight is delayed?). So, I'm sitting there, on the plane, when I catch a whiff of perfume that sends me back to the fourth grade - my gifted and talented teacher (gifted and talented refers to the class, not my teacher) used to fill the room with the smell. I was sitting pretty in nostalgia until I remembered why it has been filed away in my memory as bittersweet - the odor becomes pungent after awhile. If I may clarify, the aroma is a mixture of 45 year old woman with four packs a day nicotine oozing out of her leathery skin and mixing into her Chanel number 5. Intoxicating at first, but yes, inevitably, revolting. I sat and ignored the smell and attempted to finish the last chapter of my book (Homeland - Kingsolver - check it out) with the collar of my coat pressed against my face. Sure enough, this isn't the last ingredient of United flight 508's witch's brew. No, the man in front of me had to take off his shoes and lay down (our flight was practically empty, so we were able to enjoy the almost unheard of perk). His feet smelled like a third world country. I just pulled my collar tighter around my face and concentrated on my book and music. No sooner had I put my completed book away and lied down, but the seat belt lights came on and the captain said we were about to have a small amount of turbulence. So, almost on cue, the entire plane began to shake and stayed as such until we landed twenty-orso minutes later. The entire time, I am cursing the heavens and wondering, "Why God?" When I realized, he wasn't being silent - he was laughing at me, because I am such a snobby traveler. I mean, so okay, I am. I don't wont to hear idiot people with their idiot voices asking where the bathroom is. Duh! It's in the back. Man, I am a horrible person, but this is a true story (boring, but true).