Flying Over

My flight to Dallas was at 6:40. My parents got home from New Orleans at 3:10, and at 4:00 they went back to the airport with me. The line at security was longer than normal but not too bad, and then I ate a last American meal at Popeye’s. For some strange reason, the shrimp meal was cheaper than any of the chicken meals, so I got that with a bottle of water and some rice with red beans. I’d never eaten that kind of rice and beans before. It was quite good and I was quite hungry. I even got a biscuit. One last artery-clogging bit of Americana.

The flight was half an hour delayed, which made for a tight connection in Dallas – FTW (I know it’s Fort Worth, but I always think For the Win!!!) Still, there’s an enormous difference between a tight connection and a missed connection. I knew I couldn’t run, not with the backpack and the heavy briefcase, so I simply walked quickly from one terminal to the other. The boarding line had dwindled to about twelve, but I was in no real danger of missing the flight, and as it was there was no wasted time – I got right on and we left. As soon as I got on, the man directing us to our seats said, “Oh, I see you have Popeye’s (pronounced more like papayas). I like them.” Then, when I sat down, the man next to me made a comment about them too… and when the flight attendant came around to remind us to stow our luggage, she said, “remember to give me your Popeye’s….” almost seamlessly. It sure got a lot of attention, but the more I thought about it, everyone I ran into the whole way from America was very nice and friendly. Even the security guards had cracked more jokes than usual, both of the people I sat next to had been friendly, etc.

On this flight I initially sat next to a sort of wild looking man – I mean sort of crazy eyes and long hair. But nice. And an interesting life story and current situation. He’s American, with kids over in Europe who he was going to spend a holiday in France with. He left his hometown of New York as a teenager and ended up selling cars to tourists and drug dealers in the Greek Islands, and he’s a recreational pilot today. Nice anyway. Strangely, although Tampa and my previous flight had both been very crowded, this flight was anything but. Soon I hopped across the aisle to the two empty seats there and flew in what was for me almost unreal luxury the rest of the way to Europe. I had plenty of room at my feet for luggage etc, I could cross my legs any way I liked, I had an extra pillow and blanket, an extra tray table, and I could even just manage to curl up and sleep. I didn’t think I actually nodded off completely, but the flight went so quickly I think I must have. First, though, the flight movie was coincidentally enough How to Train Your Dragon, which takes place in Scotland and with which Lucia became obsessed recently. The main flight attendant kept making jokes about me ordering a Scotch on the Rocks, so finally it came out that I’m almost 21, so not as funny as he might think. But of course, he had a hard time believing it, and over the course of the light told several other flight attendants. He also kept joking about it being my actual birthday and ‘buying me drinks’ – giving me a water bottle instead of a glass. Very nice, if a bit weird. :P

It got somewhat cold on the flight, cold enough I was glad to have two blankets. They woke us up in the ‘morning’ and I was quite drowsy as they came around and served breakfast. I always make myself drink all the orange juice I get on flights, because its there and good for the immune system, etc. To help myself wake up, I opened my window shade and the light was brilliant and fantastic, all white clouds and blue sea, and I huddled in my blanket looking out and sipping my orange juice and would you believe that I felt like a first class luxury passenger. Being crammed in like sardines somehow dulls the thrill of air travel, but somehow even the few more inches of elbow room made such a big difference, and I realized anew the miracle of soaring through the clouds.