mcdreamy has literally given me the direct line to him in theatre. and i use it. and while the announcements at the airport are loud, the good news is louder: my dad's op went as well as it could have.
i make a frantic round of phone calls before i frantically make my way to the gate because they mention final boarding. when i get there they have only just started boarding, of course.
i would consider myself a somewhat seasoned traveler and thus flyer, but sometimes i can be a complete nightmare and then i feel really sorry for the people who have to sit next to me. i have the window seat and the guy next to me has the aisle with extra leg room, which i know he had to pay extra for. but he needs it, because he could be a good runner up for tallest man on earth. the middle seat is empty which by definition makes it mine.
i have to go use the bathroom as soon as i finish shrieking into the phone to tell thekla the good news. after all i managed to get a second g&t in, which i already had to down because of the false last boarding call announcement, so there was definitely no time for the loo. i am right behind business class so that's where i sneak in to. mmh, air france offers clarins toner and cotton pads, nice. i later discover that the mere mortals in economy only get hand wash. but albeit the closed curtain there is no purser guarding the precious business class toilet like it they usually do – you know like the fire spitting dogs that guard the gate to hell or heaven or something?
i sit down and start reading the paper i grabbed, carefully folding it over my two seats without annoying my neighbour. i have read that spread out newspapers from their neighbours is a pet-peeve of many flyers.
i start to push the buttons on my screen, but no movie choices appear. neighbour friendly advises me that it will only start once we are in the air. i am doubtful, has it always been like this?
have i mentioned that nivea after sun lotion smells like very persistent men's cologne? guess what i am wearing. considering he is a guy and there is the middle seat it shouldn't disturb neighbour, but it disturbs me and i wish i would have made time for a shower before i left.
food arrives and with it i spot the word heidsieck. yeah, i'm in france already and i'm drinking champagne! it's not very cold. and while a plastic cup doesn't lack a certain romantic when used on a beach picnic with someone you are crazy about, here it is just a bit sad.
i start to watch a sandra bullock movie which is funny enough and together with my mood that has gone from zero to forty-three in one phone call i frequently laugh out very loud. i don't think i piggy snorted, but i am definitely loud-ish.
my red wine arrives and while i grab for my pie i spill half of my glass. which is a shame because it would have been last as i later find out (really air france, we are basically in france and you are rationing the red wine??) and well, now there is read wine on my tray, my blanket, my backpack, and the front pocket. neighbour kindly organizes a whole stack of napkins and i dab away. i know that at this point he must think i'm a complete nightmare so i make a joke about how it now at least smells nice. which is clearly a joke because as much as i love the smell of wine in a glass, spilled all over you in a confined space...no never. he wrinkles his nose. drab. maybe the coke he was drinking should have been an indicator that i manage to spill wine next to the one and only freshly baked aa on the whole flight. i dare not inquire further and try to look nonchalant.
i sneak back into the fancy loo to clean my face with clarins. i think they refilled the bottle with something cheap and cheerful. if not, clarins stinks. back at my seat i realize that i should have taken my bra off, i forgot when packing and dressing for the trip that i never wear a bra on air. it's dark enough by now so i quickly my it disappear at my seat and feel like david copperfield.
it is sleeping time. with the my middle seat came my extra blanket. which is a good thing because they are extremely thin, made for african summer temperatures that are unfortunately not be found all these feet above ground. my new memory foam neck pillow is awesome though it is a bit boa constrictor like around my neck, which makes it really good for neck support, but slightly claustrophobic.
i'm quite good at sleeping spread over two seats. since neighbour has been so nice i try to keep to my assigned two seats and not spill over too much. i even manage to emerge myself completely at some point, but that position is a) not very flattering because my bum is hanging suspended in mid-air and b) almost impossible to get out of without having a lot more wiggle room at my disposal.
his blanket is still on the middle seat, wrapped in plastic and very slippery. i wish i could kick it off the seat, but really don't want to be any more impolite.
after a few hours, could have been one, could have been five, i feel the need to write things down. neighbour is still up watching gatsby. i am terrified to open my airbook, because last time i had the sudden urge to write something down on a plane, i discovered it broken. airbook that is, not plane, but still.
while i write neighbour has decided it's sleeping time and has reclaimed his half of the middle seat. for a moment i feel a bit indignant. and then i feel bad, because he has put up with a lot by putting up with me tonight. i decide that he would actually deserve the entire middle seat for a little while.