Sleepless in Seat

It doesn’t quite have the same punch as Sleepless in Seattle, but I’m not in Seattle, so deal.

When I checked in for my flight, I was practically beaming. Eric, the lovely wannabe British man behind the British Airways counter ate it right up and somehow bumped my status up to “World Traveler Plus.” “You’ll get some extra legroom. And by the way, the foods better out here than past security.” Thanks Eric! I’m pretty sure Eric was quitting that day, because this seat is prime real estate that doesn’t come cheap. I’ve got noise cancelling headphones, an extensive repertoire of movies to choose from, free wine and beer, a seat with a foot rest and lumbar support, and a meal that economy flyers would beg to get their hands on. For dinner, I was served “Meax mustard marinated fillet of beef with Madeira wine jus, glazed root vegetables and potatoes fondant.” Um, excuse me? They ran out of the “Organic chicken tikka masala with basmati rice, dal and toasted Nan bread,” and I overheard a steward say, “Wey can getch yew the economy chikin, but reeaaaalllly, itsh shit.” These people are just so pleasant. An old woman sitting near me faintly asked, “Does the beef have nuts in it?” “Yehh awrayt miss thank yew.” “Are there nuts?” she asked a little louder. “Grayt, thank you,” he grinned. If these two English speakers can’t communicate, I can only guess what Rome will be like!

Dinner was pretty foul, but at least it wasn’t economy chicken! After my repast, I thought I’d knock out for the rest of the flight. Nope! After proudly letting the polite-to-a-fault attendant know that I didn’t want chicken and wasn’t allergic to nuts, I concocted the perfect cocktail to lull me to sleep: wine and Benadryl. The flight attendant asked me if I was old enough to drink. “In which country?” I asked, trying to stealthily hide my book entitled, “The Bedwetter.” When my neighbor didn’t followed suit, the stewardess replied, “Awrayt, sew it’ll just bey foh youh alcoholic friend then” and passed over the good stuff. My neighbor, for the record, is also studying abroad in Italy. So far I've learned that:

            1. She doesn’t like wine

            2. Her boyfriend is having a mid-life crisis

            3. She thinks Rome is disgusting

            4. Her family goes out to dinner for every meal

            5. And the Benadryl worked for her

She’s nice enough, but 10 hours of sitting next to someone doesn’t exactly provide the best habitat for wholehearted appreciation. I’ve learned that there’s no polite way to get someone to stop talking to you on a plane. Here’s my guide:

1. Pretend to fall asleep

2. Stop responding to questions

3. Speak in tongues

4. Tell them you don’t speak English anymore

I thought I’d be dozing in no time, but that would be too easy. The cocktail worked. I became woozy and my eyelids grew heavy. It hurt to look at light and I was tired. Perhaps if a more horizontal structure were presented to me, I might find myself sleeping instead not blogging. For the past hours, I’ve contorted my body in a number of ways, as any traveler has done with frustration time and time again. But with each position, something was poking my leg or my arm or I was invading the personal space of those around me. When I’ve tried sitting up, I just feel like an idiot. How do people do it? (Lumbar support or not) Maybe I’m just not hardwired like the rest, but vertical shut-eye isn’t a skill I’ll be adding to my resume. And hence, I am now delusional and tipsy and still exhausted.

“Maybe if I pee, I’ll be able to fall asleep,” I thought, and proceeded to stumble down the aisle like the drugged fool I am. Why is that no matter how smoothly a flight is going, violent turbulence hits the moment you flick the “Occupied” switch and get your pants down? I was thrashed side-to-side and lost all hope of a relatively sanitary lavatory experience. Now covered in germs and still awake, I irritatedly wonder why World Traveler Plus flyers aren’t provided with adult diapers. Like, have some decency!

It’s almost 7AM in Rome now, which means that if I’m gonna do this right, I won’t be sleeping until I get settled in my apartment. I’m hoping the Benadryl wears off soon and I can become a normal human being again. Oh, and it’d be nice if my hands stopped shaking too.