The Voyage Home
The last time I came back from Italy my journey started at 3 am Europe time and ended at 9 pm LA time; I went through 4 cities and 5 airports. I remember thinking that anybody who would willingly do this was insane.
This time was slightly better in that we didn't have a connection in New York or a long layover in Paris (unlike the guys going to NYC, another 5 hour layover). But we still arrived at the airport at the ass-crack of dawn; only to realise that nobody was really manning the show.
Pierce waits while Robert checks..are we really going home today?
Christian's luggage waits...as does Christian
Mary is happy to be going home
Check-in seemed to take forever; at one point I was convinced that someone ahead of me was negotiating a disarmament treaty or a new trade agreement. We were more awake than the gate agents...but not that much more awake. But the Air France guys and even security seemed to be in reasonably good cheer (especially considering what their day was about to look like), and eventually we all got checked in. Now it was about 4:30....so only 2 more hours to kill before we could get onto the plane.
I think at this point whatever adrenaline was keeping us going (fear of missing the flight, excitement at seeing friends and family, hatred of packing, fear of Italian cabs) finally ebbed. We crashed. Streeter tried to sleep on the floor; Brian was hunched over his luggage.
The rest of us tried to have a coffee, or an orange juice, or whatever in order to remain awake enough to remember to get on the plane. And it wasn't just us; everyone else at the airport had just finished the Olympics too. You've never seen so many people this tired in your life...
Jeff stares into space while Streeter has a weird euro Power-Aid; Robert looks mad.
Even Elsa was tired..I think Brandon was about to take away my camera
Streeter's out...
Reb is knitting, Pierce is waiting for his coffee to kick in,
Al looks like he wants to be anyplace else in the world right now.
As the boarding time got closer we ran into Freideman about to get on a plane for Germany.
Finally they boarded the plane. We were all packed into 3 rows on the Airbus. We got on the plane....and sat for nearly an hour. By this point most of us (myself included) had nodded off. As the plane taxied for takeoff I got this shot of the sunrise.
During our flight we had some spectacular views of the Alps. Maybe I should say I had great views because I think everyone else was out cold.
These are the Alps!
At one point the pilot said that outside was a nice view of Mont Blanc. However in French he said the left side of the plane and in English he said the right. So this could be Mont Blanc. Or it could not be.
C'est Le MontBlanc? Vraiment Je ne sais pas....
Once the plane was descending into Paris we realized that our hour and a half layover was now really a half-hour layover thanks to our on-time Italian departure. We would have to repeat the journey from 2c to 2d and go through security again and somehow make the plane to LA.
When the plane landed I think we were all about to open the emergency exits and slide down the wings; but cooler heads prevaled and we walked (ok we basically ran) off the plane (sorry no goodbyes to the NYC bound contingent) and bolted through the terminal.
As we lined up in security on the other side we realized that Patrick was not among us. We got worried....did he go to the wrong gate? Did he doze off on the jetway? Fall in love with some Parisian barista at the coffee hut?
We got onto the little bus which drove us I believe to Belgium where we got our plane. It was parked next to another 777 and an old 747...the reject line? Oh boy. And let me tell you our plane really needed a wash....just like us.
We all got off the little bus, climbed up the air stairs and settled into our seats...but where's Patrick? One more bus pulled up and the door closed; and Patrick, Christian and Brandon walked onto the plane. Apparently they had stopped Patrick for some kind of security screening after he got off of the Torino flight...first Christian than Patrick. Do the CDG people have some kind of policy where they have to annoy one American per flight? Sheesh.
A 12 hour plane trip, all during the day, when you haven't slept, and just want to get home, is torture. There is no two ways about it. We were all able to get some sleep, but not much. The plane was packed. You can only watch the same 3 movies so many times. By this point you have read the in-flight magazine on the way out, you hate all the movies, you have read all your books, your ipod is near death, and so is your spirit. I swear airlines should provide in-flight gambling or bellydancing or something to keep people from banging their head against the wall. How people fly from LA to Singapore (18 hours) I will never know.
Somewhere over Greenland, or maybe was it Canada I really was ready to grab a parachute and jump out of the plane, but instead I took this picture:
Christian and Brandon in repose....
Eventually after who knows how many games of Solitare on the back of the headrest the plane landed in the good old US of A. Or should I say slammed onto the runway so hard we thought we blew a tire. We didn't care, we were home.
As I walked through immigration the passport control officer asked me jokingly if I was at the Olympics or something...being that I was gone for a whole month. I said yes...if I had any more of the pins I would have given him one...
I remember re-entering the US kind of odd when we used to visit from Europe...coming back from Italy was very similar. By this point I was used to people speaking Italian, German or French around me; I had to concentrate to realize that people were speaking English (or spanish). Very odd how the mind works.
Brandon went immediately to Starbucks and ordered a Chai something.....never seen someone enjoy coffee that much in their entire life.
Patrick and I shared a cab back to Santa Monica in the rain. I hauled my very heavy luggage up to my apartment and collapsed on the sofa.
I went to bed at 4 pm. I slept for almost 13 hours.
This time was slightly better in that we didn't have a connection in New York or a long layover in Paris (unlike the guys going to NYC, another 5 hour layover). But we still arrived at the airport at the ass-crack of dawn; only to realise that nobody was really manning the show.
Pierce waits while Robert checks..are we really going home today?
Christian's luggage waits...as does Christian
Mary is happy to be going home
Check-in seemed to take forever; at one point I was convinced that someone ahead of me was negotiating a disarmament treaty or a new trade agreement. We were more awake than the gate agents...but not that much more awake. But the Air France guys and even security seemed to be in reasonably good cheer (especially considering what their day was about to look like), and eventually we all got checked in. Now it was about 4:30....so only 2 more hours to kill before we could get onto the plane.
I think at this point whatever adrenaline was keeping us going (fear of missing the flight, excitement at seeing friends and family, hatred of packing, fear of Italian cabs) finally ebbed. We crashed. Streeter tried to sleep on the floor; Brian was hunched over his luggage.
The rest of us tried to have a coffee, or an orange juice, or whatever in order to remain awake enough to remember to get on the plane. And it wasn't just us; everyone else at the airport had just finished the Olympics too. You've never seen so many people this tired in your life...
Jeff stares into space while Streeter has a weird euro Power-Aid; Robert looks mad.
Even Elsa was tired..I think Brandon was about to take away my camera
Streeter's out...
Reb is knitting, Pierce is waiting for his coffee to kick in,
Al looks like he wants to be anyplace else in the world right now.
As the boarding time got closer we ran into Freideman about to get on a plane for Germany.
Finally they boarded the plane. We were all packed into 3 rows on the Airbus. We got on the plane....and sat for nearly an hour. By this point most of us (myself included) had nodded off. As the plane taxied for takeoff I got this shot of the sunrise.
During our flight we had some spectacular views of the Alps. Maybe I should say I had great views because I think everyone else was out cold.
These are the Alps!
At one point the pilot said that outside was a nice view of Mont Blanc. However in French he said the left side of the plane and in English he said the right. So this could be Mont Blanc. Or it could not be.
C'est Le MontBlanc? Vraiment Je ne sais pas....
Once the plane was descending into Paris we realized that our hour and a half layover was now really a half-hour layover thanks to our on-time Italian departure. We would have to repeat the journey from 2c to 2d and go through security again and somehow make the plane to LA.
When the plane landed I think we were all about to open the emergency exits and slide down the wings; but cooler heads prevaled and we walked (ok we basically ran) off the plane (sorry no goodbyes to the NYC bound contingent) and bolted through the terminal.
As we lined up in security on the other side we realized that Patrick was not among us. We got worried....did he go to the wrong gate? Did he doze off on the jetway? Fall in love with some Parisian barista at the coffee hut?
We got onto the little bus which drove us I believe to Belgium where we got our plane. It was parked next to another 777 and an old 747...the reject line? Oh boy. And let me tell you our plane really needed a wash....just like us.
We all got off the little bus, climbed up the air stairs and settled into our seats...but where's Patrick? One more bus pulled up and the door closed; and Patrick, Christian and Brandon walked onto the plane. Apparently they had stopped Patrick for some kind of security screening after he got off of the Torino flight...first Christian than Patrick. Do the CDG people have some kind of policy where they have to annoy one American per flight? Sheesh.
A 12 hour plane trip, all during the day, when you haven't slept, and just want to get home, is torture. There is no two ways about it. We were all able to get some sleep, but not much. The plane was packed. You can only watch the same 3 movies so many times. By this point you have read the in-flight magazine on the way out, you hate all the movies, you have read all your books, your ipod is near death, and so is your spirit. I swear airlines should provide in-flight gambling or bellydancing or something to keep people from banging their head against the wall. How people fly from LA to Singapore (18 hours) I will never know.
Somewhere over Greenland, or maybe was it Canada I really was ready to grab a parachute and jump out of the plane, but instead I took this picture:
Christian and Brandon in repose....
Eventually after who knows how many games of Solitare on the back of the headrest the plane landed in the good old US of A. Or should I say slammed onto the runway so hard we thought we blew a tire. We didn't care, we were home.
As I walked through immigration the passport control officer asked me jokingly if I was at the Olympics or something...being that I was gone for a whole month. I said yes...if I had any more of the pins I would have given him one...
I remember re-entering the US kind of odd when we used to visit from Europe...coming back from Italy was very similar. By this point I was used to people speaking Italian, German or French around me; I had to concentrate to realize that people were speaking English (or spanish). Very odd how the mind works.
Brandon went immediately to Starbucks and ordered a Chai something.....never seen someone enjoy coffee that much in their entire life.
Patrick and I shared a cab back to Santa Monica in the rain. I hauled my very heavy luggage up to my apartment and collapsed on the sofa.
I went to bed at 4 pm. I slept for almost 13 hours.
posted by The Traveler | 6:42 PM
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