Up, Up, and Away

Le 4 Sept

So...I’m sitting in the airport in Chicago, my laptop still reading San Diego time, 10am, even though it is really 1pm here, and I am taking off for my 8 hour plus some flight in an hour and a half. Woke up at 8am to make sure I had everything ready and leave for the airport just after 9am, get to the airport by 9:30am, leave Louisville at 10:50 (theoretically), land at 11:15, wander around aimlessly for a little bit, and plop down to write a first blog entry because all I have been able to think about so far on my cross-world adventure beginnings is this—people are fucking WEIRD.

People watching, if you have yet to indulge, is quite the enthralling sport, and I highly suggest it. Bored? Look around. Not bored? Look around. For example: sitting at my gate in Louisville, I was unable to access the internet because you have to pay for it everywhere now, despite the false advertisements of “Free Public Wifi!” (lies), so I had no computer fun, and instead was zoning out, looking through the window...when suddenly, a man walks up to the window I’m gazing out of—a man in a business suit, mind you, nicely cut hair, glasses, the whole nine yards—and said gentleman, while facing the window, hoists his left leg up onto the ledge of the window with the inside of his foot facing out. Then, with his leg fully extended, he proceeds to attempt to touch his head to this foot (unsuccessfully so), and after failing at that, proceeds to, while keeping his leg up, dip down towards the ground, and back up....and down towards the ground, and back up. Swear the man was trying his hand at ballet, but also swear the man never participated in ballet in his youth as was evidenced by this very...artistic display. He dropped his leg like nothing odd occurred and walked away to take his seat. I didn’t know if I was allowed to laugh or not, but I feel that if you have to ask it’s probably a no, so I decided against laughing. It took some will power.

In the Chicago airport, pretty sure I walked past the smallest flight attendant I’ve ever met. In my life. I mean, I’m little, and she may have reached my bicep. Maybe. On an ironic sidenote a portly woman just walked by me with the largest earrings I have ever seen in my life. Smallest and largest today, wouldn’t ya know? Other superlatives: I just ate the best salad wrap EVER.

At my gate, which is teeny for an international flight, interesting, there are these two guys probably my age, maybe a couple of years older, in full western attire. Cowboy hats and everything. This flight is going to Frankfurt, Germany, so if I hear a foreign language in my gate or on my flight right now, I’m going to pass it off as German. So when they began speaking and it wasn’t English I just assumed German, but as I walked past, I thought I heard French. I wasn’t paying attention, so I’m not sure...but I thought cowboys only existed in America...I was perfectly content with cowboys, cowboy hats, cowboy boots, and anything else cowboy-esque, residing in America and leaving said cowboy mannerisms in America (or Kentucky...whatever). I’m not sure how I feel about this new revelation. They better have just been practicing their foreign language.

As much as I have been bagging on other people, I am fairly confident (98.9%) that passers by at the Chicago airport have been people watching me. There wasn’t an outlet at my gate, naturally, so I found what I’m sure is meant to be a “business station” for e-mail and other things...ha. Well the only station left open was the handicap station, no seat (think about it), but outlets! Now before you get all accusatory, I didn’t take the freaking handicap station...there is a plant placed very handicapped accessibley in front of it. That was sarcasm. So I plugged in my computer cord, wrapped it behind the planter and bush, and am sitting behind and to the side of the station. But I’m not tall enough to reach above the bush (haha, funny funny, Jeanie is shorter than a bush—shut your face), so the strange man next to me had to assist, quiet politely. Not only am I sitting on my ass on an air vent, next to the business station, my computer cord wrapped behind a bush, but I have a dolly (the carrying heavy boxes kind of dolly) on my other side...with an undisclosed amount of hair wrapped around the wheels at eye level. So I am quite comfortably squeezed in here. It’s okay though, because the nice UPS man just dropped off eight boxes (literally) right in front of me (literally), so no one can see me anymore to people watch me! Jerk.

Alors, maintenant I must go potty, and then board my eight hour plus some flight across the ocean to Frankfurt Germany. Avitazen?


Le 5 Sept.

I am in Germany. I can now legally drink.

So normally when I go through security at the airport, only one of my bracelets goes off (twisty one with the Shema on it). So when I got to security in Germany, all I took off was said bracelet. Well apparently the German metal detectors are a smidge hypersensitive because not only did my bracelets and thin chain of a necklace go off, but the underwire in my bra went off, and in case you are wondering the Germans do not mind feeling around such particles of clothing to be sure it is really underwire and not a grenade. Thank you GUCI for taking away any shyness I may have had about the human body so that I could just laugh with the security guard lady, who apparently has to deal with people who do not find humor in over the top security procedures (as the lady after me proved. “Grumble, grumble, *angry German* grumble...)

So now, after calling to ensure family I was still in one piece but that, since it was midnight in Louisville when I called, I would wait to call them from France until later, and after checking my email to make sure I know what to do when I get to France...I’m bored. I have successfully exhausted my puzzle game book, the new applications I downloaded last night for iTouch, two massive playlists on my iTouch, writing blog entries to load later (currently writing in Word), two movies on the plane, doodled with my sharpies, no sleep in there of course—so I’m bored. But this is fifteen hours later, so I’m gonna say that’s pretty good, thanks. Next stop Marseille, then shuttle to Aix; May I return a lover of wine and fluent speaker of French!