I wrote this on the plane so apologies ahead of time if there are typos, grammar, and punctuation issues. The iPad virtual keyboard isn’t the best on-screen typing experience:
Thirteen hour flights are evil.
I don’t think I know of anyone who especially enjoys them, and if i ever find someone who does, I may actually feel the urge to taunt them, before asking why the hell they could love such a thing.
The thirteen hour trip on United flight 840 was comfortable enough, and certainly one I had done a couple of times before. United offers a direct route at a reasonable price, so I tended to be a repeat customer whenever I needed to make the trip across the pacific.
Today’s flight was slightly delayed. That is the downside of having morning fog screw up multiple flights, shortly followed by the plane losing power and a mechanic needing to come on board.
But of course. What an excellent way to start a holiday.
At least I have my gorgeous girlfriend here.
Nic and I sat in 54a and 54b of a 747-400. It wasn’t premium, but it was reasonably comfortable, or just comfy enough. The advantage to having a girlfriend is that you can lift the armrest and have them use your shoulder as a pillow. That closeness and warmth rocks.
I think the guy on the aisle seat came from a room deep in a university where no one dare bothered him. He was sort of the opposite of warmth, and closer in nature to the feeling one gets when they meet someone who would prefer to befriend a skinned pig in a meat locker.
When he sat down, he pulled out nearly every item from his backpack. I couldn’t stop staring at his ridiculous sweater, the sort you would receive for Christmas from a family member trying their best to annoy you. This man seemed to enjoy the sweater, which given what he pulled out of his bag to survive the thirteen hour trip – laptop, headphones, papers, folders, toothbrush, a plastic orange juice cup now devoid of liquid that he could use to spit gum into, random plastic bags that make lots of crinkly sounds – doesn’t really surprise me.
He fell into a deep sleep reasonably quickly.
And four hours into the flight, i needed to pee. So Nic awoke, let me get by, and Mr. Ridiculous Sweater couldn’t be stirred. Probably all that crinkling plastic. It probably tires one out, you know, folding it, stretching it, trying to stuff it into the front pocket next to the unused air sick bag, duty free shopping guide – save a total of six bucks on cologne! – and necessary safety instructions.
Getting past the aisle seat from my window place required me to kind of straddle his legs, forcing my own legs over him as if he was a thick puddle of something tall to stride over.
I’ll ask Nic later on if i did this elegantly. I fear the answer.
I think this large movement i had to make in order to get to the bathroom – getting around the sleeping sweater – broke the button on my shorts.
I reached the bathroom, opened the door, closed it, locked it, the light came on, and someone in my row probably frowned after seeing the word “Lavatories Aft Occupied” light up.
And then my button fell off.
I didn’t mean for it to happen. I wanted to just pull my shorts down like i normally do and pee, but this time there was a snap and four hours into the flight, my shorts decided to tell me that they needed to be thrown out.
While flying over the Pacific ocean.
Things can never be easy for me, it seems. Especially on vacation.
I’m back in my seat now, right now, watching some excuse for a hand-sized hot dog leave my tray table and be returned to the flight staff, thinking up ways to rectify the situation.
I mean, I’m buttonless and scheduled to arrive in Los Angeles in six hours.
I don’t want the travel security people stateside to think that I’m some buttonless trouble maker. Im hardly a buttoned trouble maker. I generally like to be a fully clothed not quite so troubled and more peace maker.
I may have to think like Macguyver, or at the very best, like some Chief Macguyver.
While the sleeping sweater sleeps, the girlfriend tries to snooze, the people behind me engage in a discussion about who stood up first, and Ray Brown slaps a bass in my ear drums, my thinking is that I’ll try using the keyring loop to connect my button hole and my zipper handle.
Or my pants will fall down in the middle of LAX. I’m seriously hoping that doesn’t happen.
Heres hoping the rest of the trip is just a touch easier.