Creature of Attempted Habits

When I travel, I don't like to be rushed.  There are those who like to arrive at the airport with only the smallest sliver of time to spare, tap their feet impatiently in the security line, huff and puff as they are sent through the metal scanner more than once (it's that darned penny that got caught in the lining of my coat!) and sprint through to the departure gate as though they are trying out for the Olympics.  I prefer to take everything at a leisurely pace - rushing, among other things, leads to losing things, dropping things and breaking things.  Towards the end of last year, I spent quite a bit of time in airports, waiting for one kind of flight or another. 

My preferred modus operandi involves me getting to the airport with at least an hour to spare, before my flight.  If I'm lucky, I get to check my bag in for free.  I still have not gotten used to the idea of having paid for a flight, having to pay again to take my things on said flight.  Here, one cannot take liquids on a plane (a few weeks ago an agent confiscated my Nutella!) and, as lightly as one tries to pack, there is never enough space in the overhead for everyone's overnight bag.  This means that people disregard the boarding instructions, make a mad dash for the plane as soon as they can, and stuff their way-too-large-for-overhead bags into the compartments and things get ugly.  But I have leapt ahead of myself.

I tend to get to the airport, work through security - I don't wear jewellery and I wear shoes that are easy to slip off and on - and try to make it all as painless as possible.  Once through that obstacle, I look around for a restaurant.  Depending on the time of day and the length of flight, I may or may not get something to eat.  Nowadays, it can be difficult to get food even on an 8 hour flight.  Plus, that airline food is not known for being tasty; you're lucky if it's edible.  Regardless, I always get a cocktail.  Flying makes me a little nervous, so I like to be able to spend a good amount of time, zoning out and sipping on my drink.  Aaah.

Finally, it is time to head to the departure gate and wait for my row to be called for boarding.  I then amble on through and head for my seat.  I like a window seat and sometimes my row neighbours don't like me because, I often need to get up to go to the restroom.  I have already told you about the lack of space involved in travel and the general stresses that come with stuffing people in small spaces for hours at a time.  I try to ease the pain and a window seat (sorry I need to go to the bathroom) goes a long way.  I have reading material on hand, and I'm good to go.  If I have hand luggage, often the flight staff ask to check my baggage at the gate.  I welcome these moments because then I don't have to play the overhead stuffing game.  One less thing to navigate through the narrow plane aisle.  I squeeze into my seat and exhale.

I always listen to the safety instructions - I don't want to jinx things.  Then it's "hold the arm rests and try to make the best of it."  On a really good travel day, I fall asleep while waiting for takeoff and don't wake up until we're airborne.  However it is that it ends up, I'm doing what I can to make it as painless as possible.  I won't lie, that cocktail goes a mighty long way.