on flights

The flight there? Hella long. 747 from MSP to NAA (Narita Airport, Tokyo). Flight path runs west over the US/Canada border, then up the coast of British Columbia, then curves around the bottom of Alaska, then down the coast of Russia and into Japan.

The flight itself is about 12 hours. Which is long. But it seemed even longer because the whole time, we were chasing the sun. So it was light the whole way, and sleeping was out of the question, especially in light of my crazy excitement and anticipation.

I think we got in around 4 p.m. Tokyo time, but it was really like 2 a.m. central time. After a couple airport Sapporos, we were back on a plane to Singapore, for another 6 hour flight. At this point, I was numb. I tried doing logic and word puzzles, but I had been looking at that shit for so long, my eyes scrambled and I just started filling in the blanks willy nilly. Luckily, I caught a few zzzzzzzs, like maybe a half-hour, before we landed in Singapore at 2 a.m.

At that point, my teeth were fuzzy, and I'm pretty sure I smelled (having worn the same clothes for like 24 hours straight). Which is exactly how you want to meet family members you haven't seen for 2 years.

We hugged it out with Mr. W's family and then headed back to their flat, where I promptly passed out. It was bliss.

The next flight we took was from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia to Krabi, Thailand. The Thai/Malay peninsula has a couple airlines that operate daily flights; it's easy to just go to the airport and buy a seat. Pretty cheap, too.

We flew Air Asia, which is a budget airline, like Sun Country or Southwest here. Because the flight was relatively empty, it was a decent flight. No water or anything, though, and since we didn't have any Malaysian ringet (Mr. W had drunk them away the night before), we were forced to go without. Not a big deal, though ... the flight was only an hour and half long.

The KL/Krabi flight occurred on January 22, 2009, the day after Obama's inauguration. I had woken up the night before at 1:30 a.m. and watched the inauguration on BBC from my hotel room in KL. I thought it was great and poignant and momentous until John Roberts effed it up (once again, great pick, Bush!). Anyway, going through customs to leave Malaysia and enter Thailand the day after the inauguration, both the Malay and Thai officials held me back to talk to me about Obama and congratulate me on my new president. Mr. W? Straight on through. Me? Holding up the line with the overenthusiastic customs agent, pumping his fist in the air, yelling "Go Obama!" It was heartening to see the hopefulness in both of their faces, but I wasn't too keen on being loudly proclaimed as a US citizen. Some things should just be kept quiet when traveling abroad.

Anyway, next flight was from Krabi to Bangkok. This flight was on Thai Airlines, the fancy schmancy local airline. The difference was stark. Very pretty, attentive stewardesses, personal service, and these great little nuggets of joy called Pudding Puffs or something like that. They were just like Little Debbie swiss cake rolls, without the waxy chocolate coating. Mr. W and I hungrily ripped into ours, pulling them out and eating them with our hands. When we were about 3/4 of the way through, we looked around and noticed that everyone around us (all Asian) were eating them with silverware (and dignity). Once again, gauche, bumbling, fat Americans grossing up the joint.

The next flight was from Bangkok to Singapore. Back to Air Asia, the charter-type flight. Now this, THIS, was something to behold. I knew we were in trouble when we got behind a huge Chinese tour group at check-in. Normally, I have very little patience. In traveling, when it's all hurry up and wait, I have absolutely zero patience. Waiting in the check-in line was torture.

But that was nothing compared to how I felt when I saw the whole group (probably 100 or more) approach our gate. They all crowded around the area where they take the tickets ... my heart sank as my competitive streak rose. I started to brace my elbows because I could see what it was going to take to get a decent seat on this flight.

At first, Mr. W just kind of sat there marveling at the spectacle of the mob waiting to board our flight. Then, when the crowd began emitting a loud roar (due to, from what we could decipher, a heated game of keepaway), Mr. W's ire rose, too, and we starting moving toward the gate.

Finally, the ticket taker came, and it was a full body press to the front. We did pretty well; Mr. W gave a couple elbows, and I hipchecked one gal, but we got ourselves some sweet seats in the 4th row. The whole thing was nuts.

Anyway, the final flight was from Singapore to Narita to MSP. It was pretty uneventful. I slept as much as I possibly could to try to stave off the effects of jet lag, but no such luck. I still feel like I'm recuperating. Going to bed at 7 every night isn't normal, is it?

Anyway, here is the only photo that really ties in with this post:

This is the port of Singapore. Tons o' ships. Neato.