On the plane

Qantas Airlines, you royally spoiled me. The last time I rode on a plane for over eight hours, I had my own armrest, a leg lift, and space. Oh, precious space. And that was in coach. I’m writing this blog in the confines of seat 47B, which has wrapped itself around my body and just won’t let go. In front of me a seat reclined at about 70 degrees leans into my knees (it would remain that way for the majority of the flight). To my left sits a basketball player. Not a tall skinny dude, but a tree trunk of a man. No bitterness there, because hey, big people need to fly too. He was even nice enough to keep his hulking leg on his half for less than half of the trip. To my right, well, I’m spilling over into the aisle to my right, careful to dodge the aerobic-deprived, the tight-bladdered, and this pushy Italian mother of three, soon to be four who kept swinging her daughter in to the aisle and yelling at the man in front of her for daring to recline his seat, even just a little. I was secretly hoping she’d chide the chatty Spaniard girls in front of me, but she didn’t seem interested in anyone but herself. And maybe her children a couple times.

Outside the hot glove I’m sitting in, there have been pleasant parts of this flight. Let me start with the food. This was actually quite a project for me. In an insulated foil container, steamed even portions of mashed potatoes and beef with beef sauce. A small dish contained a curried orzo salad topped with chicken. There was a chunk of packaged swiss, a water, a sprite, a Cozy Shack tapioca cup, and finally a creamy lemon cake. Oh, and a cold cube of butter with… nothing to spread it on.

A marvelous meal on its own, but let me share some innovation with you. I broke the cheese chunk in to pieces and put it on top of my beef and potatoes, then quickly covered the insulated container. While waiting for the cheese to melt, I enjoyed the tasty (though oddly pasty) orzo salad. Upon finishing, I found my cheese pleasingly melted over my entrée. About halfway through the hot meal, a flight attendant stopped by to offer me a roll. Butter enigma solved. Utilizing the remaining warmth of my foil dish, I stashed my butter underneath it to soften. After eliminating every last remnant of gravy, the butter was satisfactorily softened (maybe a little too much), but ready to be spread on my roll. From there, it was slow eats on dessert, and finally one happy traveler.

The entertainment on this flight is not bad. I watched Source Code, and almost started Thor before the urge to do jumping jacks in the galley got the best of me. Sadly, Deathly Hallows Part One, though listed in the magazine, was not included in the menu. Maybe on the ride home.

All in all, I would give anything to be able to do some wind sprints right about now. I imagine I’ll do plenty of walking around in Paris once I land. Here’s to no rain during my six hour layover!