As I stepped on the plane, a very nice Asian woman reach out
to see my boarding pass. “Hello,” she said. “You are on the other side of the
plane in a window. You can cut through this aisle here.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“You are welcome, my darling,” she said.
I walked through the flight attendant staging area and over
to the other side of the 767. My seat was 26K so I was about halfway back in
the economy cabin. I found my seat and took a second to retrieve a book from my
back pack before storing my backpack in the overhead compartment.
From that point on, I people watched. The cabin was filled
with passengers who appeared to either be Asian, or very formal business
people. I overheard the two gentlemen ahead of me boasting that they were going
to get to meet chairman.
An Asian man sat next to me and asked me where I was going.
I told him I was going to work in Shanghai.
“Do you know Chinese language?” he asked.
“I don’t,” I said. “But I am hoping to learn.”
“And chopsticks?” he asked. “Can you use them?”
“I think I can,” I said, having not realized I’d probably
used my last fork for the next few months. “I guess I’ll find out.”
I asked him where he was from and he told me the name of the
city. I didn’t recognize it. “But now I am immigrant in Canada,” he said. “What
providence do you live in?”
“I’m from the US,” I said.
“Oh the US!” He said. “How is US different from Canada.”
I wasn’t sure the trans-Pacific plane ride was long enough
to sort through that topic.
Once the plane was boarded, the flight attendants came
through to pass out customs forms. The pilot came on and announced that the
flight time to Shanghai was 11 and a half hours. We would fly up along the coast of Canada,
over Anchorage, across the international dateline, drop down over Russia, fly
above the main land of Japan, and across into China. Two hours before we
landed, they would bring coffee through the cabin for everyone. “The
temperature when we land in Shanghai is between 32 to 33 degrees,” he added.
Right! I thought. Back on Celcius. How do I do that? Double it
and add 30? That means it will be 90 degrees when we land.
“Is very hot in Shanghai,” the man sitting next to me.
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
As we taxied out, I played with the monitor on the seatback
ahead of me. I figured out how to find the map of our flight route, as well as
a few movies that were available in the flight. With 11 and a half hours to
kill, I figured I would do some journaling, watch some TV, and sleep. If I got
bored or had more time, I had my book to read.
The safety video was in both English and French again, along
with Chinese subtitles. As we taxied and took off, I looked out my window. This is so epic! I thought. How did my life become so cool?
I looked out the window until we reached cruising altitude.
When the flight attendants began beverage service, I pulled out my tablet to
journal. When they reached our row, I ordered an apple juice to enjoy with my
complimentary pretzels.
“I am very hungry,” the man next to me said.
“Me too,” I admitted, realizing I was. “Is there a meal in
this flight?” I had assumed there was, but I didn’t hear the captain mention it
during his flight briefing.
“Yes,” the man said.
It was then that I noticed he was eating his pretzels in a
peculiar fashion. He had torn a small hold in the top of the package and was
sliding them out into his mouth (almost like those tubes of yogurt they make
for kids.) I also noticed that whenever he drank his milk, he rose the glass to
his mouth with both hands.
About an hour into the flight, we were served a meal. It was
chicken and potatoes with roasted carrots and green beans, along with a hot
roll, some sort of corn salad, and a piece of chocolate cake. All of it was
very good—except for the corn salad, which was kind of slimy. I also savored
the chance to eat with a fork one last time.
Again, I noticed my travel companion had a very different
set of table manners. His chin practically rested on the tray table and he used
the fork to push the food into his mouth. He ate quickly as though he had just
escaped from a refugee camp and hadn’t seen food in weeks. It was coupled with
loud slurping noises (which in all honesty, I found a bit humorous.)
They soon came to take our trays and they turned off the
cabin lights. Most people closed their window shades and I did the same. The
cabin was practically pitch black. The only light came from a few laptops and
the emergency exit signs. I got up to use the lavatory, before continuing on
with my journaling.
When I reached a nice stopping point, I stowed my tablet and
pushed my button call the flight attendant.
“Can I get you something sir?” she asked.
“Do you have champagne?” I asked. It was of two alcoholic
beverages I knew I could drink without gagging it down.
“Only on domestic flights,” she said. “We have zinfandel and
merlot.”
And once again, I’m
out of my league.
“I’ll have the merlot,” I said.
“Coming right up.” She disappeared and returned a few
seconds later with a plastic cup and a little six ounce bottle of red wine.
“Thank you,” I said.
I studied the label for a few seconds—as if I had any clue
what I was looking for—before twisting off the lid and filling the cup about
1/3 of the way. I took a sip. It was bitter, but it wasn’t bad. I sipped a
little more, and scrolled through the monitor on the back of my seat to find
something to watch. Settling on The Big
Bang Theory, I reclined my seat and watched a few episodes while I enjoyed
my wine. After an hour or so—and with eight hours until we landed—I decided to
try sleeping.
I actually dozed off quite quickly. After sleeping for about
90 minutes, I had to get up to use the lavatory again. When I returned to my
seat, I was in and out for about another hour. A red light woke me up as they
simulated a sunrise on the plane. The red overhead lights changed from red to
pink to white as they woke the cabin for “lunch” (or maybe it was supposed to
be dinner—in Shanghai it would have been breakfast time so I’m not sure which
time zone we were following.)
Lunch was an all American Cup of Noodles. The flight
attendant handed it to me, along with a pair of chopsticks.
Soup with chopsticks?
“I guess we’ll see how I do,” I told the man next to me.
It was surprisingly easier than I expected. I couldn’t make
the slurping noises my fellow passengers did—I was even trying too and it was
just too unnatural. I can’t say that Ramen Noodles are a particularly filling
meal, but it hit the spot. After they collected our trash, they dimmed the
lights again (perhaps this was a second night…or a continuation) but I really
wasn’t tired anymore.
I decided to watch a movie. I didn’t see The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and it
seemed like a fitting flick to watch on an International adventure. While there
were a number of logistical inaccuracies in his international travel, it was a lot of fun.
When the movie ended, I decided to keep journaling. My quads
and calves were cramping a little but I stretched my legs out and flexed my
feet a few times to relieve the tension. The man next to me stood for a bit
while a few other people got up and appeared to be practicing yoga (tai chi?)
or something in the aisles.
We are currently over Japan with about two hours until we
arrive at Pu Dong Airport. I still need to fill out my customs card and I might
get up to stretch a bit. It has dawned on me that I still don’t know who is
picking me up (although this time, unlike Europe, I did bring the address of
where I am staying in case I need to take a taxi.) Whatever happens, it’ll be a
great adventure!
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