As I sit on the plane, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, maybe halfway to Beijing, I find myself listening to Chinese music (it’s like Backstreet Boys meets Karate Kid) and wishing I had brought a snack. Man, I’m starving. I’m pretty sure I worked off any food I ate in the mile hike at the LAX airport. Hike? Yes, hike. Let me tell you a story…
Because we left an hour late out of Denver, I only had about an hour and half layover to my flight to Beijing. When I deplaned, I found the first person I could and asked directions to the international flights (I learned the hard way about asking directions in the airport. The last time I flew internationally, I was 17 and missed my flight because I got lost and had no idea what to do. All alone in an unknown airport…needless to say it was a mess). I continued to ask questions every few minutes to make sure I was headed in the right direction. I didn’t have a lot of time to spare, so when I met Mr. “Helpful” Airport Man who told me just to walk to my international gate because it would be quicker, not a far walk at all, who was I to question a man who so clearly knew what was best for me? People! ALWAYS question! I walked from terminal 7 to terminal 2. That’s five terminals. To give you an idea, the Ft. Lauderdale Airport only has 4 terminals total. By the time I reached the right place (after being given wrong directions and going to the wrong airline first), I was covered in sweat from the marathon I’d just run, my feet were blistered from causing so much heat with the friction on my straw-soled flipflops and I was a nervous wreck because I was afraid I’d missed my flight. Wanting to use my time wisely and feeling the relief of being where I needed to be, I decided to use the restroom. I was halfway through the restroom using when I heard my name being called over the loud speaker. The. Loud. Speaker. The one that goes through the entire terminal, including the bathroom…freaking out, I raced through the rest of the “resting” and practically ran to the desk at my gate (not helping the feet). Everything was fine, they just wanted to make sure I was there. Yah, sure, everything was fine. I was a hot, sweaty, limping mess on the verge of a hysterical breakdown but everything was fine…
Anyway, I finally got on the plane where I found myself sitting next to…NO ONE! A dream come true. I’ve been able to stretch out, move around, get in and out of my bag a gazillion times and no one cares. The powers that be knew what I needed to stay sane on this trip.
Back to sleep I go. Three hours of shuteye just isn’t enough and time goes by much faster when you’re unaware of it moving. Nighty-night.
As I sit on the plane, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, maybe halfway to Beijing, I find myself listening to Chinese music (it’s like Backstreet Boys meets Karate Kid) and wishing I had brought a snack. Man, I’m starving. I’m pretty sure I worked off any food I ate in the mile hike at the LAX airport. Hike? Yes, hike. Let me tell you a story…
Because we left an hour late out of Denver, I only had about an hour and half layover to my flight to Beijing. When I deplaned, I found the first person I could and asked directions to the international flights (I learned the hard way about asking directions in the airport. The last time I flew internationally, I was 17 and missed my flight because I got lost and had no idea what to do. All alone in an unknown airport…needless to say it was a mess). I continued to ask questions every few minutes to make sure I was headed in the right direction. I didn’t have a lot of time to spare, so when I met Mr. “Helpful” Airport Man who told me just to walk to my international gate because it would be quicker, not a far walk at all, who was I to question a man who so clearly knew what was best for me? People! ALWAYS question! I walked from terminal 7 to terminal 2. That’s five terminals. To give you an idea, the Ft. Lauderdale Airport only has 4 terminals total. By the time I reached the right place (after being given wrong directions and going to the wrong airline first), I was covered in sweat from the marathon I’d just run, my feet were blistered from causing so much heat with the friction on my straw-soled flipflops and I was a nervous wreck because I was afraid I’d missed my flight. Wanting to use my time wisely and feeling the relief of being where I needed to be, I decided to use the restroom. I was halfway through the restroom using when I heard my name being called over the loud speaker. The. Loud. Speaker. The one that goes through the entire terminal, including the bathroom…freaking out, I raced through the rest of the “resting” and practically ran to the desk at my gate (not helping the feet). Everything was fine, they just wanted to make sure I was there. Yah, sure, everything was fine. I was a hot, sweaty, limping mess on the verge of a hysterical breakdown but everything was fine…
Anyway, I finally got on the plane where I found myself sitting next to…NO ONE! A dream come true. I’ve been able to stretch out, move around, get in and out of my bag a gazillion times and no one cares. The powers that be knew what I needed to stay sane on this trip.
Back to sleep I go. Three hours of shuteye just isn’t enough and time goes by much faster when you’re unaware of it moving. Nighty-night.
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