One day I will learn my lesson: I will take a horse tranquilizer before settling in on a 9 hour and 40 minute international flight.
I watch a movie. I read a book. I check the time. An hour has passed (okay, I fast-forwarded some through the movie and skimmed a little on the book).
I gaze out the window.
We are still on the runway.
An extra-tall frame and an extra-short attention span create a perfect storm of uncomfortableness, even though we paid extra to get a bulkhead seat and a little extra legroom.
The lights dim and all around me, folks start nodding off. The dude across from me has
covered his entire head with a blanket. Beside me, Mary has put on a sleep blindfold,
ear plugs, a plush travel pillow.
They start showing The King's Speech on the overhead screen, but I’ve already seen it, so I switch the audio to Italian. Maybe I can take this opportunity to become fluent in the language. However, the flaw in my plan become apparent when the stewardess offers me a beverage and I respond: "gr-gr-gr-gr-graci."
One of the nice things about international flights is that they ply you with free beer and wine. I choose a little vi-vi-vi-vi-vino and watch as the stewardess pours a glass from a Juicy Juice container. I sniff it, and then swirl it around in my mouth. It reminds me of the time I accidentally brushed my teeth with Preparation H.
All around me folks are slumbering. Stewardesses are sacked out in their little cubby-holes. I'm sure, in the cockpit, the pilots are splayed out, letting auto-pilot guide us over the dark, dark ocean.
When the third movie of the flight... Little Fockers, I think... begins playing, I try to will my brain into shut-down mode.
I gaze out the window.
We are still on the runway.
An extra-tall frame and an extra-short attention span create a perfect storm of uncomfortableness, even though we paid extra to get a bulkhead seat and a little extra legroom.
The lights dim and all around me, folks start nodding off. The dude across from me has
covered his entire head with a blanket. Beside me, Mary has put on a sleep blindfold,
ear plugs, a plush travel pillow.
They start showing The King's Speech on the overhead screen, but I’ve already seen it, so I switch the audio to Italian. Maybe I can take this opportunity to become fluent in the language. However, the flaw in my plan become apparent when the stewardess offers me a beverage and I respond: "gr-gr-gr-gr-graci."
One of the nice things about international flights is that they ply you with free beer and wine. I choose a little vi-vi-vi-vi-vino and watch as the stewardess pours a glass from a Juicy Juice container. I sniff it, and then swirl it around in my mouth. It reminds me of the time I accidentally brushed my teeth with Preparation H.
All around me folks are slumbering. Stewardesses are sacked out in their little cubby-holes. I'm sure, in the cockpit, the pilots are splayed out, letting auto-pilot guide us over the dark, dark ocean.
When the third movie of the flight... Little Fockers, I think... begins playing, I try to will my brain into shut-down mode.
No such luck. I am wide awake, the only consolation that I am inching closer to Italy with every elongated minute.
