London Revisited: The Flight There

After 4 years, 4 jobs, and countless financial woes, I was finally able to save enough money to buy a plane ticket to go back to London, where I lived for a year (and previously, 4 months).  I bought my ticket in July for an October 28th departure. The waiting was torture.  But, suddenly, it arrived.  After agonizing over the perfect coat, settling on the perfect shoes, borrowing the perfect carryon bag, I was ready to go.  I was equipped with a belated birthday present for Mok, my dear friend who was kind enough to open his house to me, as well as toothpaste, over the counter sleeping pills, and a book not yet available in the UK.

Taking a trip overseas may not seem like a big deal to most people.  I am not most people.  Not only do i have an unexplainable fear of flying, but I also tend to not want to leave once I am there. NOT just because of the impending flight back that I know is unavoidable, but, well, because I am a different person in the UK and Ireland.  I sleep better.  My hair is shinier, my cheeks are rosier, I smile more, I eat delicious chocolate, everywhere I go there is Cider, ON TAP.  I think I may even smell better.

So.  The day of my flight, I worked until 2- my flight was at 7:10.  I checked in online.  I had everything ready.  I called for my car at 2:20.  It would be 10 minutes. Perfect.  I'd get to the airport 4 hours early.  I needed to.  Being in the airport helps me prepare.  I see planes, I see pilots and flight attendants walking around, I see businessmen who fly monthly sitting there like they are waiting for the tube.  I tell myself it is normal.  Flying is NORMAL. So, after I called for my car, I brought my suitcase downstairs.  I went back upstairs.  I waited.  At 2:45 when I had no call saying the car was there, I went downstairs.  I craned my neck out the door.   No car.  He must be down the street.  I walked out to the sidewalk.  Nope. So then I called.  There was an accident, traffic was awful, ON MY STREET. It looked FINE to me. So to optimize my time, I decided I would wait outside. In the rain. For my car. Because time was of the essence. At 2:52 Liz sent me a text "Just realized that u r on ur way to the airport now and i got jealous!  have fun in London!" to which i responded "Thank you!!! My car is late because of a bad accident!!!!  Aaaaaaugh!!!!" She responded "goot thing you allowed plenty of time.  u'll get there don't stress."  Bless her.  Liz is a seasoned traveller, and experienced my flying panic rituals when we went to Ireland.  She was worried for the poor sod who got sat next to me, fearing for the state of the bones in his/her hand.  (she had nothing to worry about, when I fly alone, I do not grip delicately hold the hand of the stranger next to me, I merely become well acquainted with my arm rests).

Finally, my car arrived.  I practically ran to him, threw my suitcase in the back and plowed out of his way as I got into the back seat.  Luckily, he was a chatty driver, so we had a great, distracting conversation to JFK.  And, God Love Him, he told me I was beautiful and I would meet someone soon.  (In London, I hoped).  I gave him a hefty tip, and ran panicked walked into the airport.  I sauntered over to the self check in kiosk, put in my passport to be scanned, printed out my boarding pass, checked in my suitcase, and went to Security.  I pulled out my little baggie of liquids, took out my laptop for inspection, pulled my shoes off, put them on the cart, walked through the detector, and YAHOO! I was through!!!  There is something about being through security that Gives me such a feeling of accomplishment.  It is the Last Step before boarding, which is the Last Step before take off.

I found my gate, and wandered around the area for a bit, spend $9 on hummus and water, bought a trashy magazine, and settled down at my gate. I found myself highly entertained by a little girl who was at the gate, she was a redhead with attitude, at 8 years old.  I took it as a sign that all would be ok.  I then turned my attention to a delightful older couple, the man who wanted to sit facing the TV (CNN), and his wife with her trashy novel.  Every so often, she would pat her curled hair to make sure it was plump.  Nearing boarding time, she rummaged through her bag, pulled out her make up bag, applied some lipstick, and again, fixed her hair.  She was ready.

My sister, God love her, probably knowing a.) what state I must be in and b.) how waiting to board a plane can be daunting, called me and we chatted for an hour or so.   I also talked to my Mom, then my dad called, as did Auntie and cousin Kate.  Sometimes these calls make me feel uneasy.  Is this the last goodbye?  Are they REALLY wishing me well or is it more of a "well, this could be it..." kind of a call?  Everyone sounded to be genuinilly wishing me well, but that suspicion is always there. 

Then, finally, FINALLY boarding began.  First class and business class.  Then the last rows.  I was row 44.  So I waited.  AND THEY DID NOT CALL MY ROW!!!!!!!!  I was so patient!  But, I didn't get to go until they said "all rows, last call." I KNOW I did not miss the call for my row. I am a fiend at the airport. I miss NOTHING. But.  I got on my flight, put my carryon above, my purse below, and sat with my book. An older gentleman sat next to me. We exchanged pleasantries.  This poor guy did not he would be turned in to the flight attendants.  The pilot (British! Hoorah!) came over the speaker and told us we'd be a little late taking off, but not to worry.  We pulled out of the boarding gate, and went onto taxi.  The safety presentation began.  I, as always, paid close attention.  And.  I swear to God. When talking about an emergency landing the pilot said "Once off of the plane, Run as fast as you can away from the aircraft." Thanks,  Mr. Pilot. My seat companion laughed, as did I - although inside I was wondeirng WHY the pilot thought to say that.  Was he expecting something? Did he know something we didn't?  Was this aircraft randomly picked to have an emergency landing? My thoughts were interupted by the HILARIOUS pilot informing us we would be getting ready for take off, and just to let us know we'd hit some turbulance about an hour and half into the flight, over the atlantic.  Oh REALLY mr pilot? Enough turbulence to cause an emergency landing and the need to RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN AWAY FROM THE AIRCRAFT!?  Ok, ok, I know, I over reacted, as no running would take place if we landed in the atlantic.  So, I readied myself for take off.

However, it seems like Mr Pilot was quite the comedian, because we DID NOT TAKE OFF.  I was getting all riled up for no take off.   With each move of the plane, every noise I thought "this is it, here we go." Only to sit there watching other planes take off.  And then, finally, we turned the corner, things started revving, and we were speeding, and my knuckles were as white as anything, and, we. were. in. the. air. Up up and up... I like to give 20 minutes for the take off panic to subside.  I like to pretend to read. When really I am staring out the window looking for signs of distress. When at last the seat belt sign went off, and the flight attendants began pushing their drink carts out, and the entertainment system was turned on, I began to relax a little.  A teeny, tiny bit. I quickly surveyed my movie choices.  I settled for "Sunshine Cleaning." It seemed light, non-thinking, and distracting.

Oh dear. It seemed seat companion wanted to chat. And he had an accent. I am usually FINE with accents but not when I need to concentrate on my flight, and listen in case the pilot calls for my assistance.  I learned companion was from Guyane in South America, and had been flying since 5 that morning.  He was going to London to visit his wife and daughters.  He also had sons, because he was a "bad boy" when he was younger.  His wife left him years ago for being a "bad boy." His one redeeming quality was he thought i was a brit. 

Finally!  The drinks!  Flight attendant "Hiya, what..." Me: "WINE."
And I took that wine and had a lovely side of benedryl.
The food came, some sort of chicken. I ate every morsel, because I paid for it!  I watched the movie, hoping that companion would get the hint that conversation time was over. He did.

Then the lights went off.  And we "slept." Sleep on a plane for me consists of the location map up, one eye closed, and the other eye on the map.  I may have dozed, but I kept wishing companion would get up to pee.  I don't pee on planes.  All systems shut down when I fly.  But I wanted companion to go so I could stretch my legs for a minute.  He did not go until we were about to land.  A huge help.

Now, occasionally we hit turbulence.  And what I do in these instances is wildly look around me to see how others are reacting.  And how are they reacting?  NOT AT ALL!!! Do they FEEL what I feel?! Do they REALIZE what is going on!?!?!? Then I realize, "oh, it's not THEM it is ME." and I settled back down... This happened 6 times. 

At some point the lights came on, and the breakfast came out.  Granola bars.  Which I couldnt eat because they contained nuts. So I just had a juice.

And then. "Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin our descent into London."
OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.  I was so close!!!!!! I looked out my window, and saw land.  Ireland!? England!? OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!  Hands firmly gripping my arm rests, I was ready.  Slowly, things became closer.  We were going through clouds.  WE WERE LANDING! We went through the clouds, and buildings were getting MUCH bigger, I could see cars!! And was that a person!?  Then, Just as we were getting close, I suddenly saw SMOKE coming off of the wings.  I looked around, wild eyed - did NO ONE SEE THE SMOKE!?!?!? why wasn't the pilot SAYING anything?! The plane was ON FIRE.  And then, we landed.  It was fog.

I was in London.  After 4 years.  And, with a combination of relief from the flight being over, and being IN LONDON I promptly burst into tears. Sobbing on a plane is not uncommon for me.  There I was, my forehead glued to my window, sobbing. I was in London.

I got through customs without much of a fuss, somehow walked to the tube, exchanged some money, got a tube ticket, got on the tube, and was on my way into the city.  3 stops before Gloucester Rd (where Mok lives) was Barons Court, which was my school stop.  Tears flowed. I was there, and ready for DAY ONE.