[Waiting for the applause to die down]
OK, after a brief hiatus, I'm back. I took some time off to, you know....um....to...let's see.... Well, OK, I wasn't doing anything, I was just being lazy. And when you're being lazy, it kind of limits the scope of topics you can discuss.
So when I last posted, I was on my way to America -- a lone adult with three kids in tow. On a 22 hour flight. In coach. Fun stuff. Actually, to be honest, traveling with the kids wasn't that bad. They did really good. (Thank you Steve Jobs for inventing video iPods!) But you know, that whole flying thing? I hate it. To say that I'm a "nervous flier" is an understatement. (To say that that's an understatement is an understatement!) Before we moved, my doctor in America had given me some nice sedatives to make air travel seem like just a hazy dream, but since I was supposed to be responsible for the kids, I felt like I kind of owed it to them to stay lucid. So I regretfully left my wonderdrug in Singapore and rode the waves of several panic attacks throughout the flight.
But what I'd really like to discuss here is what a difference 50 feet makes. And after that, what a difference 150 feet makes.
50 feet is the approximate distance I was from the movie screen showing the in-flight movie. Granted, they were showing movies that I probably wouldn't have cared about watching any other time, but when you're trapped in coach, wedged between a 4 year old and a 6 year old, all of a sudden the movie "Fools Gold" sounds like something you want to see. Unfortunately, here is what I was able to see of the screen from my seat.
I mean, why even have a movie screen if only the first 5 rows of a section can see it? It's just unfair; it's not right! But they weren't going to get the best of me! I managed to outsmart them by leaning over and peeking between the seats ahead of me. And if I. leaned. just. far. enough, I was able to get this view of the screen.
Ha! That showed them! (I should mention that I have no idea who "them" is. The airplane industry? The airplane builder? The people in front of me with a clear view of the screen? The Wright brothers? Who knows, it could be anyone.) I discovered, too, that when you watch a movie in which you can only see 1/4 of the screen (and even less anytime the bald guy a few rows up leans over), you rely alot more on your sense of sound. I felt like a blind person in a movie theater "watching" a movie. "I hear silverware and glasses clinking. They must be at a restaurant. A-ha! Was that a chair scraping against the floor? They must be leaving. Cars on the street, they're outside now; a door opening, they're at her place; a dog barking. Hey! She has a dog?" That sort of thing. I eventually gave up on the movie and watched videos on the iPod with Alex and Ali. Underdog, Inspector Gadget, Mr. Magoo. Mr. Magoo...now there's a guy who knows my pain!
Now I'll discuss 150 feet. 150 feet is the approximate distance our coach seats were from business class. Ahhh, business class, I wish I never knew you. See when we moved over here, we flew business class and all of us got a little spoiled. ("Mrs. Martin, would you like a pair of slippers? A glass of champagne, Mrs. Martin? Mrs. Martin, would you like another satin pillow?) Here are some pictures of us indulging in the comforts of business class.
That was an easy flight.
This one, not so much.
150 feet in airline industry measurements can be defined as the difference between the "haves" and the "have nots". It might as well be 150 miles.
Being that Ali's first taste of air travel was in business class, it's no surprise that when we got on the plane this summer and had to walk through business class to our seats in coach, she automatically went towards one of the business class seats.
"I'll sit here," she said, dumping her Hello Kitty backpack onto the seat.
"No, that's not our seat, keep walking."
She went a little further and pointed to another business class seat. "Is this our seat?"
"No," I said, "that's not ours either."
"Well, where are our seats?"
I leaned over a little bit and pointed down the aisle. "Do you see those chickens and goats running around waaaaayyy back there in the back of the plane? The last row by the bathrooms. Those are our seats."
She turned to me with a look of disbelief and incomprehension that seemed to say, "Hmmm, those seats look awfully close together; how do they lay flat like a bed? Do they serve orange juice in fancy glasses back there? And will I still be getting my warm towel before dinner?"
Reality is a harsh lesson to learn when you're a 4 year old. But I just patted her on the back and ushered her 150 feet down the aisle to our seats far away from business class.
More later!
