So the story begins a week ago, back at the house in Cheesecake City. It’s 5:30 at night, the bags are packed (I’d even put White Dog in my carryon). It’s Halloween but since our ride to the airport was to pick us up at 6 I hadn’t bought any candy. We never have any trick or treaters anyway, so why not?
5:45: Ding-dong.
Gene: Ride’s here! Aren’t you glad I made you put White Dog away?
Elaine: Holy crap, it’s trick or treaters. ::opens door:: Hi Kids! I’ll be RIGHT BACK.
I run to our pantry and find a box of 100 Calorie packs (cookies at least!) and hand each kid a pack, apologizing all the way and telling them how cute their costumes were. (Thank God they were all 8+ year olds – I would have felt worse if they’d been younger).
Our ride finally arrives and we get to the airport by 6:30 for a 9:15 flight. After we get all checked in and get to our gate (in the most beautiful wing of Cheesecake City Airport n’ Bait Shop I’ve ever been in) I decree that it is time to get ready for flying by having cocktails. Mmm. A cosmo and two Amaretto sours later (I know, I drink like a girl) I drag Gene to the gift shop for more reading material (besides the two books and the LAPTOP already in my bag) with the reasoning that we would be in Germany for 90 minutes and who knew if we’d find any English language reading material? And who the hell knew if the airline magazine on a Malaysian Air flight would even be in English?
(Pages read on either flight to KL: approximately 30 – oh well)
Something else silly: a little tipsy, I’m walking a few feet behind a European couple with their child. The child was being pushed in a stroller I didn’t recognize. It was an Austrian brand called Hollo or Horro or Haro or something. I found the company later on the internet but it wasn’t as interesting sober.
So we finally get to board our flight to Germany and I notice that our seats are directly behind the flight attendant seats. It appears that on international flights, the flight attendants don’t just sit on the little jump seats (ugh, can you imagine 8 or so hours of that?). It was fairly amusing – by the end of the flight two of the flight attendants had turned that row (it was a row of two seats in the exit row) into a little cave for themselves. No light got in, no light got out. And believe me, I tried. (I am such a dork). The flight attendant who mostly took care of us was very sweet although she contradicted the pilot when he said something about a smooth landing over the loudspeaker. She gave us and those around us a surprised look and made a “wavy” motion with her hand. “Great,” I said to Gene, keeping my lips shut, “we get the disgruntled FA.”