| 9/06/2006 |
LEAVING ON A JET PLANE
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So I was in Chicago for Labor Day weekend (for those of you who didn't know). I flew there (if you hadn't figured that out from the title). I am not the best flyer. For me, flying is like hot dogs. The less I know about what goes into a hot dog the more willing I am to enjoy them. Same thing with flying. The less I know about how a plane works and what keeps a several-ton hunk of metal hurtling through the air at several hundred miles an hour... the more willing I am to fly. Most times I'm ok with flying. Most times I can just zone out whatever is going on and I'm fine. It's when the plane decides to shake me like a fresh glow stick that I get, shall we say, ancy?
The flight to Chicago was very smooth! Great weather leaving Omaha. Great weather arriving in Chicago. Smooth flight. Couldn't have asked for better trip. Coming back was a different story. I have been fortunate the last few times I've flown that I had a window sit. I don't have a window/aisle preference. I just prefer to not sit in the middle of two other people. My middle seat assignment should have been clue number one about the ride I was in for.
I sat there on the plane with a lot on my mind and wondered what the chances would be that I actually get an empty seat on either side of me, let alone on BOTH sides of me. A whole ROW to myself? Unheard of! A couple approached, eyeing my row. She was a waif of a girl in her mid 20s. A skinny little thing that could use a sandwich (seriously... somewhere Lindsay Lohan is calling up Nicole Richie and talking jealous of this girls waistline), who showed off her figure with baby doll T-shirt and shorts. But because she might get cold she carried a heavy fleece zip-up sweat shirt. Apparently there is no such thing as compromise in her fashion world.
Her travelling companion was an older gentleman in what I guessed to be his late 40s/early 50s. Casually dressed in shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. Was it her father or some other relative? Was I about to be meat and cheese in the middle of what might be a May?December sandwich? Jesus... please no. She has to be his daughter.
I stood up politely to let (oh let's call him) Chuck have his window seat. Amy (she looked like an Amy) took the aisle. I asked if she wanted to trade me seats since they were travelling together. She scoffed and declined my offer. Chuck chimed in, "Nah... she's put up with me all weekend. I'm sure she's sick of me by now." Amy agreed jokingly (?) as we all took our assigned seats.
We hadn't been in our seats for more than 5 minutes before Chuck shanghais my air vent. Three seats. Three air vents. Do the math people. I let it go at first, but then moved it back on me when I felt stuffy a few moments later. He apologized and made some joke about being really hot on the airplane. Well, guess what... you're not the only one. That's why there is a vent for EACH of us.
All passengers were now on board and the flight attends were making their rounds. As the flight attendant approached the emergency exit row he confirmed that the people in the row knew they were sitting in an exit row and may be asked to assist in an emergency. The first row he asked, no one spoke English. No one knew what he was saying. They were moved. The second row contained two elderly Indian women who would need assistance opening a soda can, let alone an airplane hatch. They were moved. The other two rows were fine. I was glad after the seat switching to know that in case Chuck decided to lit up a cigarette and take us all down that someone would know how to open to doors to let out the smoke.
This plane had their safety instructions on video, which freed the flight attendants to walk around fetching pillows and answering passenger requests. The instructional video cracks me up. They are SO calm. I knew they 'have' to be to potray how calm they'd like you to be in an emergency. But the level of emotion that the mother with her child displays as she is securing her air mask and then her daughters is bordering on comatose. If it wasn't for her fluid movements, I might have guessed she was animatronic.
The pilot came over the speaker to tell us about our flight. One hour, one minute in the air. Should be a smooth flight. A few bumps getting to our cruising altitude of a gazillion feet, but smooth sailing after that point. His Australian accent was calming. I was reminded of the Crocdile Hunter. Too soon. It's a shame. The Crocdile Pilot explains that once in the air the FA's will start beverage and snack service. He told us the current weather in Omaha and signed off.
Not 5 minutes later the head flight attendant gets on the speaker to announce that beverage service may not happen because of the amount of turbulance that we will most likely be experiencing. At which time flight attendants will have their asses safely planted and strapped into their own seats. Screw pretzles and sodas for the commoners. Ok, maybe that last part she didn't say, but everything else she did. She was sounding VERY certain that no one would be getting up. We ALL would want to be strapped in securely for at least one hour and one minute of turbulant travel.
Lovely...
The flight takes off, there are a few 'normal' bumps. But then they few normal bumps continued. It was the 'bump' that felt like we dropped and my stomach jumped up in my throat because of downward movement. I'm gripping on my legs pretty tightly, eyes closed, saying Christmas prayers all the way. Where's a rum and coke with a Xanax chaser when you need one? I figured when the flight attendants got up to serve us snakcs that the worst must be over. And for the most part it was. Just a few more bumps here and there, but enough to keep my palms sweating through most of the flight.
Now... during this time of take off, while Amy figured gum was the best way to get her ears to pop, Chuck settled on snorting. In a move that seemed similar to an inward 'farmer blow' he would suck air into through his nose. Even over my loud iPod I could hear him snorggle in an attempt to equalize the pressure in his head. Chuck had three settings. Look intently out the window at the evening darkness below. Raise his hands above his head (exposing unSure armpits in a cramped cabin). Fiddle with the headphone volume jack located on my right armrest. Oh wait... FOUR. Snorggle. Chuck was quickly becoming the worst parts of every shop teacher, seedy mechanic, and weekday bar patron.
Look out the window. Snorrgle. Raise his arms. Fiddle with his headphones. Snorggle. Look out the window.
Hate.
He did make one more attempt to steal the air vent again, but remember that he is not King of Row 18.
When the beverage cart came by Chuck ordered a lite beer. Surprised?
He made every attempt to savor it, but with such a short flight and being in the part of the plane that got served last, he wasn't allowed much time to finish it. I had to chug my soda and even then I was finishing it as I handed it to the flight attendant.
Snorggle. Look out the window.
Seriously, what does he see? It's pitch black and we are high enough over the midwest that there isn't a whole lot of city lights to illuminate the ground below.
Finally the flight was over and I couldn't have been happier to get away from Chuck. Feh!
Next time I'm volunteering to take the exit aisle. Move over Indian Grandma, Cris wants leg room and a window seat.
But that was just the flight the weekend itself was nice. A very relaxing weekend for the most part. Lloyd caught me up on movies that I'd been negligent in seeing. The Big Lebowski (even though TBS showed it every weekend for a while there), Sin City, and Auntie Mame. I know... I'm a bad gay. I'd never seen Auntie Mame. And to only know it because of Lucille Ball. I thought Lloyd was going to pass out.
I was excited because on my way to Chicago I made it down town via Blue Line on my own. Which, to anyone from a city that has a mass transit system that actually gets used (unlike Omaha). It's a big deal for me. I actually knew where I was going. I secretly enjoy riding the El. Does that make me sick in the head?
Movies. Cooking. A few live 'concerts' of Guitar Hero. Lunch at The Heartland with new people. Even the Heartland I was surprised by. Not being a big 'health' conscious person I couldn't live a vegetarian lifestyle even if I tried. Luckily this place wasn't like other such restaurants that I was thinking off. Organic didn't mean fake meats and cheeses. While the tofu was plentiful, there was acutally plenty to choose from for the carnivore in me. Yay! A meat-eating Cris is a happy Cris.
I've been to Chicago a few times now and I haven't taken any photos once. Which I'm a little saddened by when I get home, but I figure I enjoyed living and seeing Chicago on the other side of the camera. And that is something that I will remember for a long time.
There are several version of Leaving On A Jet Plane. I'm partial to Chantel Kreviazuk's.
So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh babe I hate to go |
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I posted this @ 9/06/2006 03:05:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
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