In Which I Tell You My Airplane Story

5.
5 flights it took to get to China and back.

Fiiiiiivvveeee.

After the first one I seriously considered just staying in NYC and living at JFK or in the surrounding area. My family would move up there with me at some point, maybe when the kids all graduated college, I would get a job at a pizzeria with Vinny & Carl(the guys I met on the elevator), it was a solid, fully rational plan.

Alas however, as I researched apartments for me to live in in NYC I eventually decided to just go ahead and get on the next flight.
Mainly because Lori had arrived and I didn't feel entirely comfortable clinging on to the nearest security guard's legs wailing and screaming that he couldn't make me go.
Besides, Lori and Jesus convinced me I was being ridiculous.
Hrmph.
So I called the realtor back and told her nevermind.

Anyhoo, the flights were actually fine.
I've decided once we take off and find our crusing altitude I actually do quite well.
I force myself to not think about the fact that I am a bajilliion feet above the earth and instead I pretend like I am on a train....which.....in case you didn't know, they run on the ground. 
Where normal people should be.
This fantasy makes me happy. without needing to be medicated.

So as I trained to China I did notice this.

And it's evil cousin this:

Where to even begin with these two stupid features on board.....
Lori LIKES watching the plane make it's way across the world.
She.
LIKES.
It.
Weirdo.

I...
as you can imagine. 
Do not.

It completely ruins my train fantasy.

She was constantly turning it on
and I was constantly shooting daggers into her with my mean looks.
As soon as she would fall asleep I would kindly abruptly reach over and turn it the heck off.

As for the outside view....
Ummmmm...
let's see.....
how do I put this nicely....
Are you freaking kidding me?
Do you REALLY think I want to see that there is nothing below my feet?
Do you know what I am going through over here?
Do you care?

Are you looking for the next airplane freak out to upload to YouTube?
Because people.....if you keep showing me these things....it's gonna be me.

But I digress....
Ahem.

Fast forward we get to China....we have a great trip...blah, blah, blah....we begin to make our way home...I consider just staying and living in Hong Kong and begin dialing realty numbers again....blah, blah, blah...I check and see if Carnival cruises to China to get me home(they don't, let me save you the trouble)....I research ways to get home on a container ship....also, turns out...incredibly difficult....I surrender and get on the plane.
And two flights and one great weekend with my brother and his family it's time for me to leave DC and fly home.

So at this point it's 4 flights down,
1 to go.

And there wasn't any way I was getting on that plane a single M.I.N.U.T.E. before I had to.
So I waited.
And I watched.
I watched and waited.
And here's what I noticed.
Why does everyone get up and stand in that long line the minute they call for boarding?

People of the world, explain this to me.

I mean seriously?
The plane is not leaving without you I assure you.
(Believe me, I tried. I thought, well......if I don't get on it....they will have to come find me and drag me on board.)
So why does everyone stand there for half an hour in a long line that hardly moves just to board the aircraft and stand again forever and a day while people fumble with their bags?

These are things I do not understand.

So anyway, I was {shockingly} the last person on board.
Told you. Not a minute before I had to.
I didn't intend to be the last one mind you.
It just kinda worked out that way. By the time I had downed my tall shot of whiskey and gotten my feet to move one in front of the other....I just happened to be the last one.

{Which btw....was a little disconcerting. I can't tell you enough how much I hated them sealing and locking that door behind me was....as if to say, "So long suckers!" I'm pretty sure I heard them laughing....}

So there's me, the last one and I go to my {window} seat and find a little boy sitting in it.
To which I say, "Yo Punk. You have exactly 3 seconds to get the heck out of my seat." {Whiskey brings out a dark side to me}

Ok.
I didn't say that.
Nor did I have any whiskey.

What I did say to the stewardess was, "I believe I am supposed to sit there but I don't mind switching." 
She thanked me, said the family was trying to sit together, I told her I understood and then a nice male stewardess came up behind me and said, "Maam, here is the last remaining seat. You can have this one."

And it was a middle seat the width of my iPhone.

And I smiled.
Because that's what I do.

And then I used humor.
Because that's what I also do.

And I said something to the effect of, "Dude! You gotta hook me up! A middle seat?"
And then he was all like, "Go stand at the back of the plane, give me just a minute."
And then I was all like, "No problem"

And so I took my walk of shame to the back of the plane.....in front of everyone....who was already seated....on account of me being the last one on board.

About 2 minutes later I look up and there was stewardess man standing at the front of the plane giving me the come here head nod.

What??
Seriously??

So I walked to the front of the plane.....in front of everyone....who was already seated.....on account of me being the last one on board...


TO FIRST CLASS!!!!!!!!

I've never flown in first class!!

And if you are saying to yourself, what's the big whoop, I fly first class all the time in seats like this:

with beds like this for that 15 hour flight: 

I will punch you in the throat.


Ok, no I won't.....
that was the whiskey talking again.
Sorry.

I was pretty excited with myself in my leather seat with lots of leg room.

I was listening to train noises in my headphones.

I had a great view from my seat in the front row:

Ok....not such a great view.
But I didn't care.
There was a course a window there too.....
but I didn't photograph it....
nor did I look out of it
or acknowledge it's presence. (Ref. previous dialogue in this post)

And I had first class water and first class cookies:

Which tasted remarkably like regular water and cookies.

So that's my story.
My first time...and probably only....time in first class.

Love the way God blessed me with that.
I'm pretty sure it was a reward for not losing my ever loving mind on those 5 flights. 

Thanks Lord.
You amaze me.
...and the cookies were delicious.