I’VE BOOKED MY TICKET. I booked a ticket to Hawaii, the first stop on my trip around the world. On Labor Day of this year, September 3, I’ll be flying from Chicago to Honolulu. My sister Heather will be joining me, and we’ll spend time on Oahu and the Big Island for two glorious weeks. Then Heather will head back home and I’ll carry on to Australia. I’m super excited and more than a little scared that I’ve taken the leap. It’s all very real now. Hurrah!
Greetings from exotic Chicago! I am back on American soil and happy to be so. A report on the airplanes: about as uncomfortable as expected, but no worse so. I sat next to a man on my O’Hare-Heathrow flight who said that United is the worst of the major airlines, because they took all the inches of legroom in Economy and moved them to Economy Plus, where you pay an extra hundred bucks for the privilege. I certainly felt the difference. I was squished just sitting in the seat, of course, but trying to find a relaxing pose for my legs proved highly difficult. Especially on the eastward flight, you want to sleep, so stretching out somewhat is important. I must’ve looked like a college freshman eager to prove my comic chops on my improv troupe tryout, as I first spread my legs like a dude, one foot in the aisle and the other edging into my neighbor’s space; then pressed my legs together and sat low in my seat to shove my feet under the seat in front of me; then threw my weight to one side of the seat and wiggled my hips and legs toward the other side two inches away; then pulled my legs up and held them in mid-air; and finally settled on a rotating roster of all these options. I didn’t sleep on that flight, and it wasn’t from excitement to be traveling. I did pony up the extra cash for Economy Plus on my return flight, and if anyone has any doubt that the airlines’ anti-fat policies are anything but profit-grubbing, they only need look at that Heathrow-O’Hare flight to see the ten of us who’d paid extra spread out, while everyone else who could barely afford the basic ticket sticking it out in the back. Hell yes I paid more to make it through the eight-hour flight. Lucky for me I had that option.
But anyway. The time I spent NOT on airplanes was pretty great. I saw a lot of family and friends, and even got in some sightseeing. I can show you pictures of the pretty, pretty canals I saw in Amsterdam, the windmill I passed in Utrecht, and the queen I dined with in London (juuuuust kidding on that one), but instead, let’s take a look at some of the less-trumpted sights of these fair cities, shall we? Because I saw some damn funny things. Without further ado:
(P.S. Formatting is way funky on this thing. I was trying for something cool and it didn’t quite work. And now I’m too tired to redo it or try again, so I’m leaving it as is and hoping you’ll find it charming. Isn’t that the American way?)
oh, art students, keep doing your thing
the happiest trash can in the world -- Marina's favorite tourist spot
there are too many amazing things about this window display for me to even put into words
snack time, anyone? (no, not me either)
rabbits at Borough Market
who ya gonna call?
a bad shot of the cricket jokes tea towel at my grandmother's house
on top of a London church -- I thought all the animals were supposed to live in harmony in Jesus' world?
animatronic T Rex! everlasting love to Liz for showing me the wonders of the Natural History Museum
heaven / bar in Utrecht
Dearest fellow travelers, in the next week many of you will be literal travelers, bundling up against the winter cold (or winter heat, as the case may be *cough*Tucson*cough*) and wending your way to a loved one’s home for the holidays. Right around now, in addition to the panicked press releases-glossed-into-news-articles about how we as a nation are not spending enough money on blood diamonds and plastic toys produced in sweatshops to keep this troubled economy afloat, AAA sends out handy guides to the travel habits of Americans during this busy month of holiday cheer. This year, Thanksgiving travel was up, as people were feeling slightly more optimistic about the economy turning around, and a little more willing to spend on gas money or air fare. Early estimates are that Christmas will show a similar trend.
How are you traveling? By car, by train, by plane? Are you traveling on your own or with friends? Will you be in an airport for hours or are you a hop, skip, and a jump from home? And most importantly, how on earth do you survive the journey?
Oh the weather outside is frightful... (image from http://www.ehow.com/how_2183752_survive-winter-storm.html)
Many people wax poetic about the romance of the journey itself — it’s more important than the destination, etc., etc. But really, who are they kidding? The journey as its own highlight is true of some sorts of travel, but when you’re just trying to squeeze in as much family time as possible on your last remaining vacation days off of work, the trip is a trial to be endured.
Travel by car: sudden blizzards or freak fog attacks; miles of tail lights inching their way along the interstate like an ominous red caterpillar; ten bathroom breaks in a 100-mile stretch because you said “yes” when they asked if you wanted to upgrade to a double extra large for just 25 cents more; hours of silence and intermittent static as you search desperately for a radio station that won’t tell you how to get right with God for the low, low price of $20 a month; and the creeping sensation that you are driving in a Twilight Zone that makes you more tired, the trip more lengthy, and the road more icy with every passing minute.
Travel by air: hours staring glassy-eyed at the CNN news ticker in the terminal while clutching your carry-on close, lest a bored security guard declare that luggage suspect and delay your flight even more in order to call in the SWAT team to search it; airplane seats slightly larger than the womb you were grown in and not nearly as comfortable; kids shrieking in an off-key rehearsal for a banshee reunion in the row behind you; an in-flight entertainment choice between a movie about an MPDG saving a young man from his post-collegiate malaise and a frigid middle-aged woman discovering love via consumerist makeover and lowered standards; and after it all, mounting anxiety at the baggage carousel as you realize that the gaping yaw before you is only spitting out luggage from PanAm flights of the ’80s and your suitcase is somewhere over the Pacific with Amelia Earhart.
Almost makes you want to buy out the canned goods section of your grocery store and spend the next couple months at home, doesn’t it?
Probably the worst holiday-related trip I’ve been on was when I was about 8 years old. My mom’s brother was getting married in England on December 28th, and we thought we’d fly on the 25th, have the plane pretty much to ourselves, and show up for late presents at my grandparents’ house. Instead, we found a plane packed with people on their way to India who were taking advantage of the same supposedly low-travel day we were. As soon as the plane was in the air, I was screaming with pain — my ears were clogged up and I couldn’t seem to pop them. The twins were fighting with each other, and we were all exhausted from services the night before and waking up too early to open stockings and presents. My poor parents must have been completely miserable. One of the flight attendants, who wore a Santa hat and a tie with a blinking Rudolph nose, noticed their plight. He brought me a hot water bottle to ease the earache, and he brought my mom a bottle of champagne. I still hurt for the rest of the eight-hour flight, and my parents didn’t catch up on any sleep, but that man made the worst plane ride of our family’s collective existence about ten times more bearable. Wherever you are, I wish you a lifetime of smooth flights and grateful passengers, good sir.
So how about you? Let’s get it all out before we have to do the dreaded deed itself. What are your worst holiday travel horror stories? What are your best? Got any blinking Rudolph tie angels to celebrate? Comments ahoy!
an angel in the skies
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