It was almost 6 p.m. and we hadn't yet boarded our plane to London. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 6:15 p.m. This would be my first international flight, and I was excited. I looked outside the window at the massive aircraft waiting for us. I had never seen a plane that big before. I was in awe.
I looked at my boarding pass, seat 50A. Hmmm. It must be a big plane if there were 50 rows. Jennifer was in row 38. When we purchased our plane tickets online through Orbitz, we chose seats together - or so we thought.
We stood in a very long line to board the plane. Being in row 50, I was in no rush to board. As the flight attendant checked my boarding pass, I casually asked how many rows of seats the plane had. She said, "I think 46." Huh. I said, "Well, I'm in row 50 so there's at least that many." She laughed. I smiled and began my long trek to my seat at the end of the plane, all the way praying I wasn't right next to the bathroom.
I got to my seat, 50A, and was pleased to find there were 51 rows. Whew! AND, the unlucky people in row 51 were seated across from the bathroom. I felt better about things. A very distinguished man with dark hair and dark features, dressed in black stood up so I could get to my seat. He was from the country of Jordan. He was an architect who had moved to Canada to get dual-citizenship and better pay. Turns out the pay for architects in Canada really wasn't that great and he had been offered a job in Abu Dhabi. He had helped create the blueprints for structures all over the globe. (Unfortunately, his accent was thick and he spoke broken English so I can't really name any of these places.)
He told me I reminded him of his oldest daughter, who is 17 years old. I laughed and said I was much older than 17. He smiled and said, "20?" I laughed politely (though I was secretly insulted as year after year I never look ANY older), and told him, "26." He seemed surprised, and I saw his eyes glance at my left hand. "I see you're not married. Kids?" Really? I was in a totally different country talking to someone from an entirely different country than the one I was in and I still get the marriage question? I smiled, "No kids." I went on to explain my reason for going to London. This stirred more conversation about the differences between our cultures and education. It ended with him urging me to take a job in Abu Dhabi. He said he would find a job for me and contact me, that I'd be more valuable in the job market if I lived and worked abroad. Since I had no intention of moving to Abu Dhabi and wasn't too keen on exchanging contact information, I casually changed the subject.
We had been sitting there a while, and I wondered when this plane was going to take flight. The pilot came on to announce there was a problem with the radio. We waited. And waited. And waited some more. The pilot said the radio was fixed, but that we needed to top off the fuel. Some 90 minutes later, we were on our way. I watched two movies during this flight, both of which I hadn't seen yet, "Morning Glory" and "Just Go With It." Each person had a mini TV screen on the seat in front of them and individual headphones for private viewing/listening. I had some issues with the Canadian technology at first. It was a touch screen, but no matter how much I pressed my fingertips on the screen I ended up watching part of a movie in French. I eventually got it to work.
I slept for a good part of the flight. It was the most uncomfortable seat I have ever been in, but I made it work... sort of. There was very little leg room (and I have short legs), and the seat in front of me was all the way back almost touching me. This forced me to lean my seat back, causing the same discomfort to the pre-teen sitting behind me. I woke up just in time for dinner. Or so I thought. Sitting in the back of the plane also means you eat last. I have no idea what time it was, but it was late. The flight attendant walked by my row at least five times with the food cart. When she noticed I didn't have food yet, she was startled (which led me to believe that she forgot to serve the back rows).
There were two choices: chicken and pasta. Well, there was only a couple of meals left so I was given the choice of pasta or pasta. I chose pasta. It wasn't good. It tasted like a frozen meal you'd buy from the dollar store back home. But I was so hungry it didn't matter. I also ate the bread (also not very good) and dessert brownie. I drank some Diet Coke and went back to sleep.
I woke up off and on during the flight. I awoke for breakfast: a huge, scrumptious-looking muffin. Needless to say, this was not St. Louis Bread Company quality, so I ate only the top. Everyone started to unboard, and I wished my new friend well as he ran (literally, since we landed more than 90 minutes later than scheduled) to his next flight. I stood up, even more tired, anxious and excited than before. I was in London.
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