August 24th, 2009
“Andrew keeps finding excuses to rub my leg with different parts of his body in search of some “blanket” he conveniently misplaced in the dark regions below our waists. But, A: who could blame him, and B: it’s a small miracle his never-ending body has been able to fit into these airplane seats for normals. So I’ll let the awkward touching slide for now.
Though in its infantile stages, a few occurrences have already set the tone for the trip to come. First, in DFW we sat on the runway for 2 hours, waiting for some cockpit pressure gauge to be fixed. At this point, the idea of being brought to death by a fiery plane crash was more appealing than being bored to death sitting on the tarmac. So, we thought, being that we were still in America, the matter should be put to a popular vote. In other words, the cabin would have the choice to either continue wasting our time to insure a safe trip, or to take our chances with the malfunctioning equipment. But our suggestion fell on the deaf ears of the flight crew. Apparently safety is their number one priority. Thus, we were forced to occupy our time by surveying the ridiculous crap to buy in the AirMail catalogue (“Oh wow! An alarm clock that doubles as a vacuum”), making the obvious jokes about our fellow passengers, and engaging in a game we call ‘tickle ball.’
The next event, which will surely foreshadow our impending four months in Europe, took place when we eventually made it to the remote and exotic connecting city that is Atlanta. After we bought duty free alcohol and ate burritos in the food court, the question arose of what to do with our remaining couple of bucks in cash. We wrestled with the dilemma for some time before narrowing it down to two logical choices: exchange the money for a few British pounds (to have a little something upon arriving in the UK), or to purchase all the junk food that 11 American dollars could buy us. Ultimately we decided against the responsible budgeting and bought treats.
We boarded our trans-Atlantic flight, which we are presently flying on, around 11 pm. While settling in, a friendly British family told us we were in their seats. I was instantly suspicious, well-warned about English trickery, until Andrew discovered our seats were in fact two rows behind us. So, a bit embarrassed, we gathered our bags, our duty free liquor, and we moved.
Andrew then began an ill-fated endeavor to place things in the overhead compartment. In doing so, he managed to spill water all down the front of his shirt and possibly stow the very blanket he currently longs for. After being commended by the flight attendant for closing the compartment while seated, he began the long process of trying to get comfortable. For a good ten minutes he squirmed around awkwardly and experimented with different ways his body could cheat the small confines of the seat. Dissatisfied, he looked around and convinced himself the surrounding rows did, indeed, have more legroom. I then reminded him we were on a plane to England; a country that offered very few places he could fit comfortably. He shook his head again in frustration and put in his headphones. Then only three distinct sounds could be heard: wind rushing past the window, the gentle hum of the engines, and ‘Party in the USA’ by Miley Cyrus.”
And so began our European adventure.
Reviewed and Edited by Katie Chassaing