To Depart!

It's Departure Day!


Ahh, departure day. 

That day one anticipates for weeks. All packing and re-packing, ordering, shopping and dieting lead up to this. This is the beginning! Let the adventure commence!

Well, kinda...

This adventure begins 48 hours before lift-off.

Two days previous to this momentous occasion, my dumb, clumsy ass did this: 

It was lovely. I miss-stepped off of a 1/2 inch ledge walking into work. Brilliant! Truth be told, I've had a lifetime of ankle sprains. It had been several years, so I suppose I was due. Not too bad of one, really. Just enough to hurt like a bitch, bring tears to my eyes and piss me off. Because I needed it at that moment.

NOT MY FEET!

I spent that night at work with ice on my ankle, tens device hooked up and one of my emergency bandages wrapped around it. Good times.

A few days later, it looked like this: 

The Day Was Here!

I made my way to the Virgin Atlantic ticket counter hobbling all the while. I ask the guy if there was any way I could purchase an upgrade. Now I knew that this was more or less an impossibility since when I booked the flight I could only get an economy class ticket because everything was already sold out, but VA customer service advised me to ask at the counter. No luck.
 

I was, however, placed on the right side of the plane with on an aisle seat so I could stretch out my left leg. That sounds good. Now, take my advice on this one... unless you enjoy much unneeded attention and humiliation, DO NOT hobble up to a VA counter. The little dude was insistent, INSISTENT I TELL YA! on my being wheeled in a wheelchair to the gate. Or in my case, to the lounge, then later to the gate. I take umbrage with this. It was horrible and humiliating. The trek through security was fast though.
Here was the conversation:

     "Do you need a wheelchair?"
     "No, I'm fine. I don't need a wheelchair. I'll just hobble."
     "I'll just call you a wheelchair."
     "I'm fine, really."
     "Go wait over there. A wheelchair will be with you shortly."
At that I was dismissed to wait by the wall.

This is me in the wheelchair. :(

I made myself comfortable in the lounge. This time there was no Hobbit plane lurking behind the corner to creep me out. Only a couple of sketchy looking characters that would look at me funny when I hobbled to the bar. This is the same VA/AF/KLM lounge I had visited previously.

I helped myself to a Bailey's Martini (Bailey's and Vodka) and Eggplant Sandwich. :)

By this time you probably think I'm a degenerate alcoholic. Not true. I only drink on special occasions and in times of great stress. Both of which can describe air travel or visiting my family.

I also enjoyed a fruit cup. I did help myself to a large bottle of water and a handful of mini cheeses. 
 

One half hour before boarding I was picked up by another Wheelchair Nazi and unceremoniously dumped at the gate.

I was informed I had to hobble down the gangway during the 'passengers who need a little extra time' portion of the boarding process, so the humiliation continued.

I did what I was told and 'lurched' it to my 'extra legroom' seat. Yes, 60 bucks for 3 inches of extra space. THREE INCHES!! (Insert sophomoric phallic joke here) And yes, I chose this option when I booked the seat. Tiny seats really do hurt when you're tall.

I unfurled my travel Snuggie from its confines and had a tentative seat to await my neighbor. I sat with my knees facing the fuselage in an attempt to not get my ankle kicked.

Neighbor Seat

Passengers pushed by, wriggled around, and loaded into the plane. Three minutes into the process I sent up a silent prayer that no seat neighbor would come. The praying got more beseeching as the boarding continued.
The flight attendants then came around and made everyone turn off all devices (despite the FAA ruling to the contrary) and still no neighbor. I put my Nexus 7 away and wrapped my Snuggie tighter around me as instructed. Because if something happened I was SURE to leave it on if we had to run out of the plane. Whatever.

'Cross Check' the flight attended said. NO NEIGHBOR! WOOT!!! An announcement was made that there were a few seats open in economy, and if you wanted to spend the extra bucks to get the three inches, to let them know after take off. I was hopeful that wasn't going to happen. After all, if you had the option of purchasing more space during booking and chose not to, chances are you wouldn't do it now. 

AND I WAS RIGHT! 

No neighbor. It was GLORIOUS.






And believe me when I tell you the nanosecond the pilot turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign, I raised the arm bar, scooted over, used the provided pillows and blankets to elevate my ankle on the seat and stretched out my other leg. I wrapped my Snuggie about me and more or less got comfy for the 10+ hour flight.

My ankle elevated on pillows and blankets. Wrapped around the rest of me is my Snuggie.

Welcome cocktail with pretzels.

A few minutes after take off, the flight attendants came around with the 'Welcome Beverage'. This was a fruit cocktail with or without vodka. Guess which one I chose. Yep, you got it WITH THE VODKA please. It was kinda gross, but my ankle joint was starting to ache more from the air pressure, so I didn't care.

Shortly after that, it was dinner time. Ah, the joys of a dinner in the Economy class of an airplane. What can be said that hasn't already? What words can describe those pre-packaged, miniature delights that one eats at one's own risk? Tell me... what can be said? Not much, which is about more than it deserves. I chose the Chicken Tikka Masala. This amused me to no end since I promised my friend Richard that I'd have Indian whilst in London. Why not get started right away?

The Masala arrived with a dry salad and a brick roll. I took the plunge and my digestive unrest into my own hands and consumed the salad and entree. The bowl had a little plastic lid on it, and on an impulse and with a strange feeling of foreboding, I slipped it and my cutlery into my bag. When the dinner service was complete, I fished an Airborne vitamin supplement out of my bag and had 1/2 a pain killer. I know, I know, you're not supposed to mix drugs and alcohol. Be that as it may, I slept very nicely for several hours not awakening until what was supposed to be breakfast.

And what was breakfast to be? A massive carbo-feast! A blueberry muffin top, granola bar and orange juice. I ate the muffin and drank the juice. I hid the granola bar away for later. Remembering my horrid experience with VA tea in the not too distant past, I opted to wash all this down with coffee.

I do have to admit that a strange thing comes over me when I fly. Evidently, I have latent kleptomaniac traits that only reveal themselves in an elongated flying tube. I can't explain it. I really can't. At no other point in my existence do I have these urges. That being said, I had two seats to myself. It was a 'night flight' on VA, so we were given comfort bags. I got two. Not nearly as nice as the Premium ones, but hey, I got two and a lot of leg room. In your face bitches!



And we have reached the end of Departure Day!



If there are redundant images or things that don't make sense on this post, please forgive me. The format looks good from this end, but Blogger goes crazy from time to time.