PART 1: FUCK
written en route from LA to Orlando
I just realized I totally miscalculated the length of my second flight. It will in fact be 8 hours, not 5 as I had thought. (I had forgotten to factor in the 3-hour difference between American coasts.) Eight hours is a long time. Long enough to watch Titanic from start to finish twice, and then the first 90 minutes again. Too bad I didn't bring my copy of Titanic, which means I will instead have to watch a shorter movie more times.
PART 2: WHAT
written before takeoff from Orlando
When we landed in Orlando, they called my name over the intercom and said I should contact ground staff immediately regarding my connecting flight. As soon as I got off the plane, I approached the desk and they immediately knew who I was, and informed me that my connecting flight had been delayed 24 HOURS, but they had booked me a new flight and it was boarding LIKE RIGHT THIS SECOND.
At the new gate, they also instantly knew who I was and wrote me a boarding pass by hand, which I have never seen before, and I started to panic a little bit.
First of all, my computer and mp3 player were completely dead from the previous flight. I had been counting on a 3-hour layover to do some serious charging, especially as I had gone to the effort of ripping an entire season of Dexter to my Zune to occupy me after racing through my computer battery watching Mad Men on DVD. I would be amused for HOURS AND HOURS. It was a perfect plan. And all of a sudden we were about to take off and all my electronics were useless. BOREDOM PANIC.
Second of all, I needed to call the bank and let them know I would be withdrawing money outside the country, and to please not freeze my account like asshole Washington Mutual did when I dared venture as far as Canada. I know I should have done this sooner, but again... totally counting on this layover.
Third of all, and most alarming, the flight information I forwarded Rosie was now useless and I couldn't even email her (let alone call) to let her know when and where to pick me up (especially since I would be taking the train to a different town, a few hours from Bristol, where she would come get me).
Fourth of all, when I got to my seat there was already someone there and their boarding pass was printed with a COMPUTER, so I felt like they had the upper hand. After a walkie-talkie conversation between airline staffers, I was placed in the very back of the plane. This is when I noticed there was no flight number on my handwritten boarding pass, so not only did I have no idea what time it was, or what time we were departing, I had no idea what flight I was on so at least she could look up what time I would land.
So, all of a sudden we were ABOUT TO TAKE OFF and all I could do was furiously text Rosie about this latest turn of events AS THE PLANE WAS TAXIING, which got me busted by a flight attendant, not to mention the fact that my seat is broken and defaults to the "reclined" position, leading to repeated busting from a flight attendant who thought I was simply a bad listener.
PART 3: I TAKE IT ALL BACK
written en route from Orlando to London
Well. Um. All of a sudden I'm half an hour away from London. Screw my 24-hours-delayed flight, Virgin is GREAT. Totally worth the extra $300 for facilitating my total blackout on this 8-hour flight.
After buying these tickets, I idly looked up some customer reviews of Virgin Atlantic, and the feedback was scathing: the service was bad, the flights were delayed, the entertainment system was broken, you name it.
Well, it sucks to be those people because Virgin rocked my world. The staff was friendly and attentive, the movies were free (unlike Virgin America), and best of all, I ended up having an entire row to myself so I was free to lounge about in a variety of positions I learned from my cats. And the food... well, who cares, because it came with a glass of wine that might have had roofies in it because the next thing I remember is RIGHT NOW.
Oh, and I'm wearing the red Virgin socks they handed out at the beginning of the flight. Nothing like kicking off your shoes to get date raped across the Atlantic Ocean. Thanks, Virgin.
PART 4: BACK IN JACK... UNION JACK, THAT IS-- LIKE ENGLAND? DO YOU UNDERSTAND? ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
written from London Gatwick airport
At first, I happily realized that not checking any bags on this trip had probably saved hours of waiting and speculation as to where in the world my stuff might be.
After that, I was rather worried to find that my card was rejected by the ATM, convincing me that Bank of America had pulled a Washington Mutual and frozen my funds, but fortunately I had enough American dollars on me to get totally ripped at the currency exchange and buy my train ticket. I'm left right now with some British coinage, a few American singles, and some apparently useless plastic cards that were supposed to represent all the money I've set aside for this exact situation.
PART 5: I HAVE NOW ARRIVED
written in Rosie's house in Bristol
I am really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really happy to be here.
Labels: Europe