Originally posted Aug 2, 2005
So, anyway, somehow I got something equivalent to first class on the flight from the Philippines to Korea ... the guy behind the counter really liked that I was visiting family in the Philippines (instead of, he asked disapprovingly, "visiting my girlfriend" When I replied, "Mag-asawa na ako [I'm married]" and that I was visiting family, he perked right up ... snaps from him on my speaking Tagalog).
I arrive on the airplane, and they direct me upstairs, to a seat that's bigger than some of our closets. I had, for a midnight snack, an omelet, light and fluffy, that tasted just right, with a tomato half, a couple of broccoli trees, and some potato wedges -- all the vegies (well, okay, and the tomato, too, you fruitarian purists) were lightly salted, and tasted like real food, not like stewed nothing or cardboard, as coach airplane food usually tastes. Dessert was three wedges of fruit (pineapple, watermellon, and cantelope -- very tasty pineapple, good watermellon, and a near miss with the cantelope, ah, well): dessert was, on the whole, excellent.
No such luck for the next, very long, leg from Korea (actually, Hanguk; 'Gorea' was a 10th century monarch), it appears, and the flight is already overbooked by 25 people (hmmm, this'll be interesting ... will they arm us with M16s and allow the survivors to board? Nah, airport 'security', being what it is (overworked, annoyed, and absolutely humourless; but, to their credit, they are extremely good in inconveniencing passengers, but otherwise are entirely ineffective ... *sigh*; can't blame 'em, as they are doing what they are supposed to (except those rare standout cases where one security officer threatened to arrest a woman when she crossed a security line to comfort her 4-year-old daughter who was panicking (ya know, like thrashing on the floor and choking from the scream-sobs -- yeah, I'd let my kid go into convulsions, too, because of a line of yellow paint and anti-dignity, oops, I meant 'anti-terrorist' rules) -- props that officer, couldn't outdo that even if I tried really hard.)
*Whew* How did I get on that rant? Ah, yes, M16s; moving right along.
So, from here to JFK airport (NYCityish) and from there through US Customs (which is either 2 minutes or 2 hours, depending on the variable of how the Customs officer is feeling at the moment, it seems to me), and from there to Dulles International Airport (IAD -- now, why isn't the acronym DIA? -- I mean, using combinators (my spreadsheet is the #3 hit on Google in this area (*Ping!*)) one needs to use the Robin to get from what it should be to what it actually is ... puzzling), from there to a shuttle to Mike's house to pick up the house keys and from there to home to pat Mr. Darcy for a bit). Quite a trip!
... but for that haircut ("Shave and a haircut: two bits!") ...
K. Off to my gate to catch a plane.