The post for 2nd may
So.. I’m writing this from my second airplane for the day which is part of my 24 hour journey of exodus proportions to France. Because I am too cheap to afford a direct flight, I have since 3am last night, endured an 8 hour flight to Doha, spent 7 hours at Doha in the transit lounge and am now on the penultimate leg of my journey on another 7 hour flight to Paris. After that, we will drive to our little village in bum-fuck-nowhere.
So far it’s been ghastly. The first flight was endlessly uncomfortable because well, this is a crappy economy class in a crappy airline. The food was equivalent to A-grade compost and we spent several minutes waiting in line for a redundant bag check in the transfer area. Thankfully, the airport had a nice paid lounge with ok-ish seating and free refreshments. Three bowls of nice turkish lentil soup, several pita breads, one latte and a nice hot shower later, I was all set for Torture Round 2.
And it has been excrutiating. You see, it’s daytime already and since I am not a hibernating bear I have to be awake. And of the all the goddamned seats on the goddamned plane, I get the one with the broken tv. What the fuck.
Several complaints and several attempts to “reset” the screen later, the crew still can’t be arsed to make things right. The economy section is full and their “regulations” don’t allow them to bump passengers up to biz class even though there are plenty of seats. Stupid dingbats. I cheered myself up by doing some inflight shopping (nothing extravagant, just some much needed makeup).
Seriously, this flight is so tiny, I think there is more room in my bedside table than the seating area I am cramped up in. I feel like a sardine in a can. A sardine without inflight entertainment. Burn in hell assholes.
The highlight of the day so far has been lentil soup and a chicken sandwich I just chowed down which was surprisingly delicious for airplane food; usually I expect airplane food to be only marginally better than boiled cardboard.
I’ve got two more hours of this brutal debauchery to go through before landing in Paris and facing one bitch of an immigration queue. Then we find our little car and drive off in an unknown city. I’ve been appointed the map keeper. I can think of very few equally inappropriate appointments – it’s like appointing Hitler head of the Peace Corp or Paris Hilton the president of MENSA.
But like I said before, I am really looking forward to France. I am gonna miss Brendan terribly and I so wish he was here to share this experience with me, for better or worse (I did not just write that. How cheesy). But I’ve been alone for the longest time before he came along and maybe it will do me some good to fend for myself. It’s gonna be tough but something tells me I’m going to learn a lot. And I have Juice for company; I have missed you so much. I am really looking forward to sharing every mundane detail with you.