*Note: This was written on 9/14, but due to lack of internet, could not be posted until now*
Today marked my epic journey across the pond and for once, I actually had some unusual and (personally funny) encounters. Thus begins the airplane saga:
After nearly dropping the backpack of doom on my head, I situated myself in my seat, strapped the belt buckle over my lap, and prepared myself for the next nine hours of claustrophobia and extreme dehydration. Having the right aisle seat, I stealithily looked to my left to see what kind of creeper I’d have sitting next to me. Luckily (or so I thought) I was seated next to an older gentleman and his wife. Thinking that the trip would go smoothly from there, I eased back and waited for take off.
Then dinner rolled around. The man next to me had to start being a nosy josy (?) about why I was going to London. Then, when I told him I’d be studying abroad, I unwittingly dragged myself into a whole new conversation (which sporadically continued for the duration of the flight) about what I would be studying in London, what school would I be attending, how did I decide to study abroad, where was my home school, what was my major, what did I want to do with such major, what extra-curricular activities did I have, how diverse was Trinity’s population, and so on and so on. I just never know how to respond when people keep bugging me like that. I was getting to the point where I was about to set myself on fire (if you don’t get the joke, watch Airplane). I’m really just one of those people who don’t like to talk to anybody while flying. I’m perfectly fine spending the flight entirely immersed in my own thoughts. My short answers eventually conveyed to him that I wasn’t in the best mood for talking. Hmm, I wonder why?
Let’s start with the fact that I could not and did not go to sleep. Despite my best efforts, operation sleep failed miserably. Several factors contributed to this. First, the lovely conversationalist to my left decided that he was going to be an insomniac and keep his blindingly bright seat light on the entire trip. Said seat light was totally shining in my face. And keeping me awake. Then, I kept hearing this strange noise. I barely open my eyes and look over at my geriatic friend only to find that he is plucking his pen, bookmark, or Lord knows what over and over and over. Oh, and did I mention he had to keep snorting his nose? Then, two aisles ahead of me, I had two screaming children who literally had fits the entire trip to London. Two aisles behind me and to the right, I had a perpetual cougher. And, throughout the entire evening, someone had to keep opening the storage bin that was oh-so-conveniently right above my head. I’m pretty sure I got punched in the face with someone’s beer gut. What really set me off though is that I opened my eyes, aggravated that I can’t even get an hour’s worth of sleep, and see that the girl in the row ahead of me had the entire 3-seat row to herself and was soundly asleep. Life is cruel.
The one thing keeping me going though was the black gangsta-looking guy (I think now he was maybe Air Force) intently watching both Twilight and New Moon. Seriously, this guy needed to see how everything was going to play out because he had New Moon running until after the plane had landed. What cracked me up, besides this bad-ass guy watching the Twilight saga, was the fact that he kept sneaking looks over his shoulder at me almost as if to see if I had noticed what he was watching. And if I had, was I judging? Strange a combination as it was, I guess Twilight was his guilty pleasure. I approve.
Now we’re going to fast forward to the plane landing. I managed to schalump the backpack of doom on my back and then headed on to customs. Apparently, students have to fill out some extra sheet of paper (it had no new information on it) before they can be processed. I grab my little sheet and head over to the wall, completely out of the way of everything. Then, as usual, somebody ends up needing to stand in the exact spot I am occupying. This need was felt by a woman and her two children. The children were screaming (mind you, this is right next to me) and were also running into me while the mother did nothing. Finally, they left. Then, waiting in the student line, I had a lovely couple with their daughter push themselves ahead of me in line. Is it really surprisingly that I enjoy being alone…? ;)
Though I made it through customs smoothly, the ultimate battle was in dragging my unseemly heavy bags all around the airport trying to find Terminal 3. By the time I had actually reached the terminal, I could barely speak, my arms felt like they were about to fall off, and I was sweating bullets. But you know what? I ended up being one of the people with the least amount of luggage! Can you believe it?! I can’t! Other girls had brought either 4 medium-small bags or two gigantic, I’m talking heavy-duty, suitcases in addition to a carry-on. Unsurprisingly, they all had problems moving the luggage.
Lastly, I’d like to end this blog with something creepy that seems to be happening to me. There are waaay too many people that look like somebody else. I’m temporarily attributing this unrest to my lack of sleep….
*9/17: My roommate was super nice and not sketchy!!*
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