Day 1 – On My Way to Spain

For almost two weeks, I sat down every night, exhausted out of mind and wrote. I tend to forget things quickly and with each day being so jam-packed, I knew if I didn’t write it down, it would be lost forever into the black abyss that is my mind. I came a long way to get these moments and thanks to a trusty little tablet, my camera and two beautiful travel destinations, I’m able to share them with you. So sit back, relax, put your tray tables and chairs in their upright positions and enjoy. Or you can just skip the writing and look at pictures…whatever floats your boat. Here are my encounters and thoughts, transferred straight from my iPad to your screen—nothing is made up (though, I did edit for grammar and to make sure that in my original, delirious state of writing, that it makes sense).

May 1, 2013

Note: there are no pictures associated with this post. All of you know what the view looks like from a plane at 30,000 feet and there’s no need to see the Newark airport.

Well it has finally begun, the trip I’ve been talking about and waiting to take for over a year and a half now…Spain and Morocco. I’m currently on my way to Newark right now. My goal—to find the nearest bar and grab a drink. Not only do I need some cocktail therapy (as a friend likes to put it) but I also need something to calm my nerves for an 8 ½ hour flight. I have slight plane anxiety and I have a feeling that if I take any sort of meds, I’ll turn into Kristin Wiig’s character in Bridesmaids. Which, in some aspects, is not far off from how I am right now (but that is beside the point).

When I first got on the plane I found a little Indian man (is there any other kind?) fast asleep in a deep, deep slumber, in my seat. Did I let him stay there? No, I had to wake him up. One – I needed my window seat and two – by the looks of him, he was so tired that if one of the attendants had stuffed him into an overhead bin, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed.

I sat down, got out my music, headphones and was ready to prepare myself for the minutes before take-off. Which to me are the most terrifying yet thrilling at the same time. I love barreling down the run way at god knows how many miles per hour and then lifting off so I can see the city below. That lasts about a whole 5 seconds before I grab the arm handles and wait till the plane levels off. While I’m “prepping” myself, a nice Swedish woman sat down next to me. Well, I’m not quite sure if she’s Swedish (and I really hope that she’s not reading this). It’s not like we wear name tags that say “Hello! Me ethnicity is…” nor am I so amazing at determining dialects. I mean she could be Hungarian for all I knew. What I did know, was that her and her friend’s glances towards me were telling me that they wanted me to offer up my seat so that her friend could sit next to her.

Now, I just fought off a little Indian man for this seat (not really) and I’m not a mean person. I also hate to see family and friends separated (especially on a plane). I know the comfort of having a pal sit next to me, one that will hold my hand across the aisle during moments of rough turbulence. WAIT…what? That actually happened? Yeah…true story. I have great friends.

Anyways, back to what I was saying. I sat here for a couple of minutes trying to determine if my plane anxiety coupled with my need to sit next to the window to stay calm, overruled the fact that I wanted these two friends to sit together. Then I realized that this is MY vacation. I booked this seat next to the window and these two are grown woman, they can handle it. Now if a child was separated from his/her parents, I doubt I’d think twice about giving up my seat. I’m not that mean. So I just kept giving friendly, smiling glances back at the tall, blonde woman and her friend and they kept doing the same to me. With all this glancing back and forth, I couldn’t relax before take-off. Finally, when I thought I’d might just have to break down and give up my seat so that these two could talk up a storm, a group of young high school girls came bouncing through the aisles. Luckily, one of them kindly gave up her seat for the friend. Then I realized, that I had just been meaner than a “Mean Girl” from high school. How horrifying. Note to self: become a better person within two weeks.

Now, these two have been…talking…and talking…and talking. What can they possibly have to talk about at 30,000-something feet above ground for three hours now. Ok, I should probably stop hating on them as the one sitting next to me, kindly threw away my trash as I dozed in and out of sleep. Of course, I can’t understand a damn thing either one of them is saying but thankfully I have 13 songs on my iPod that I can listen to over and over again. Hopefully, this time I’ll actually memorize Nelly’s “Ride Wit Me” instead of my feeble attempt at doing it in the 12th grade. I can now see the Statue of Liberty and the NYC skyline…Newark airport, here I am.

To Be Continued…

All right then, so now it’s a few hours into my 8 ½ hour flight to Madrid. My belly is full of blue corn chips smothered in blue cheese, some “special” sauce, pico de gallo, bacon and of course Corona. I’m feeling pretty full so I haven’t touched this so-called airplane dinner considering the chips and beer aren’t sitting too well in my stomach (must be that “special” sauce).

The girls sitting next to me are fast asleep and I hate to wake them up to go to the restroom. I’m just going to take a nap and wait.

Ok, I waited a couple of hours. They got up, I’ve taken care of business. Unfortunately, I’m still not feeling that well. This is not how I want to land in Spain. For now, I think I’m just going to sign off and force myself to sleep while listening to Florence and the Machine. See you in Madrid!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s