fix: italics

content/blog/bad-at-flying/index.md

@@ -18,7 +18,7 @@ Right now, I'm sitting in the Victoria airport after trying to board a short-hau
 
 ![My haul of boarding passes after today's adventures.](./boarding-passes.jpg)
 
-This morning was hell from start to finish. I woke up with a blistering hangover at the crack of dawn. The past night I'd spent Hall-o-weekend-ing and was now going to head to Edmonton to catch the Heritage Classic. It was the Battle of Alberta, and the first outdoor game in Edmonton in 20+ years. I convinced my whole family to go. I was elated! Upon arriving at the airport, however, I saw my flight was cancelled. I waited in a brutally long line of folks getting other flights sorted (including, but not limited to, some aspirant vacationers pleading to make it to Puerto Vallarta and a few Calgarians who faced a different, but similar cancellation—in that case, WestJet's probably doing them a favor by keeping them in Vancouver). It was only while waiting in this roughly hour-long line that I began to really feel the effects of running a half-marathon and clubbing the day prior. I was seething in pain, literally clutching one of the hand rails just desperate to take a nap on _some_ plane going _some_where.
+This morning was hell from start to finish. I woke up with a blistering hangover at the crack of dawn. The past night I'd spent Hall-o-weekend-ing and was now going to head to Edmonton to catch the Heritage Classic. It was the Battle of Alberta, and the first outdoor game in Edmonton in 20+ years. I convinced my whole family to go. I was elated! Upon arriving at the airport, however, I saw my flight was cancelled. I waited in a brutally long line of folks getting other flights sorted (including, but not limited to, some aspirant vacationers pleading to make it to Puerto Vallarta and a few Calgarians who faced a different, but similar cancellation—in that case, WestJet's probably doing them a favor by keeping them in Vancouver). It was only while waiting in this roughly hour-long line that I began to really feel the effects of running a half-marathon and clubbing the day prior. I was seething in pain, literally clutching one of the hand rails just desperate to take a nap on _some_ plane going somewhere.
 
 I finally got to the front, and the gate agent was friendly and understanding. "You going to the game?" I gave him a nod and he gave me one of the most ridiculous itineraries I've ever seen in return. First to Victoria, then to Calgary, _then_ to Edmonton, just in time for the 5pm puck drop. I had 20 minutes to make it to the gate, so I flew through security (with a bit of WestJet-endorsed line-cutting) and made it no problem. I boarded my flight with ease and had a smooth trip. What else could go wrong!