Roam if You Want To...All Around the World

International Flight – resetting your biological clock

Sea-Tac Int’l Airport was practically deserted when I arrived Monday afternoon. Thanks to the convenience of the internet, I had already checked in online and registered all of my passport information that morning. After making sure my bags were both under 23 kg, they were checked and being whisked away through the labyrinth of conveyor belts behind those dangling black rubber strips.

I knew that arriving three hours early would be a little excessive, but it allowed me some time to grab my last all-American meal at Wendy’s and make some last-minute phone calls. I was glad I chose to bring my phone along, even though I knew it would be worthless once I left American soil. The ridiculously sentimental part of me wanted to bring it along so that when I get homesick, I can turn it on and read through my 200+ saved text messages from friends and look at all my pictures.

I took the underground train to the South Satellite terminal from which Lufthansa Airlines departed. It had been almost four years since I’d been in that terminal. I have been to Europe twice before, both on performing tours with the Tacoma Youth Chorus. In 2003 we traveled to England and France. In 2005 we returned to England, and also toured Wales and Ireland.

This flight to Frankfurt, Germany, however, would be the longest flight I had ever taken, at 10 hours and 10 minutes. I was kindly reminded by my friend Yushin (who has studied Mandarin in Taiwan for the past two summers) that “that’s nothing.” Still, I was a little apprehensive. Sonya reminded me that “international flights were the best!” because they offered so many ways to keep you entertained for so long. I soon discovered how true that was.

Going to college in New York has meant that I travel by plane pretty frequently, and prior to that I had been privileged to travel at least a couple times a year for a trip of some kind. Over the years, I’ve watched the economy, the price of oil, and the paranoia inspired by 9/11 take its toll on the Airline industry. Meals disappeared flights, along with free headphones and even movies. You were lucky if you got a beverage and some crackers. It’s for these reasons that airlines like JetBlue are doing so well. Suddenly, offering those forgotten conveniences has become a pleasant surprise that keeps customers coming back.

Whether it’s the airline, or simply the nature of an international flight, the emphasis on customer care and comfort was evident on my flight to Frankfurt. But even more interesting to me were the steps taken to reset our biological clocks. I moved my wrist watch ahead 9 hours when I got on the plane, but I knew it would be more difficult to convince my body. We left at 2:45 pm Pacific Time, which is 11:45 pm at our final destination. So soon after we got off the ground we were served dinner, either very early or very late, depending on how you look at it. We chose between chicken and pasta. I figured I would be getting my fair share of pasta in the next four months, so I opted for the former. It was the best plane food I’ve ever had. Drinks were served at least every hour; it looked like a giant liquor cabinet on wheels. All alcoholic beverages were complimentary. It seemed they were constantly coming down the aisle offering us something.

After dinner, it was bed time. The lights in the cabin were turned off and I tried my best to get some sleep, even though it was maybe 7:00 pm to me. I wasn’t very successful. “No matter,” I thought. “I’ll just choose from one of the twelve movie options on my personal screen in front of me. But of course, my screen was frozen. I could have asked the flight attendants to help me, but I figured I should just get some reading done instead. NYU asked us to read E. M. Forster’s A Room with a View before arriving on campus in Florence. I cracked it open for the first time on the plane, and read a few chapters.

I was seated next to a bulging man on his way to Wales. He was an authentic Washington redneck, complete with flannel shirt, blue jeans, and the faint smell of cigarette smoke that made me slightly sick for most of the flight. But he was very friendly. He told me his friend had been pestering him to come and visit her in Wales for three years now, and he was finally making the trip. He assumed I was ending my trip in Frankfurt, for whatever reason. In fact, I think most of the flight attendants thought I was German as well. Whenever they would come through to offer something or ask me a question, they would speak in German by default. At first I assumed they did this with everyone, but then I realized with other passengers they could “tell” were American, they simply spoke in English from the start. I found it interesting. Maybe it’s my look. Maybe it’s because I’m more “metro-sexual”, like most Europeans.

I was luckily seated on the aisle, so I could easily get up and walk around the cabin when I got restless, which I did a couple of times. I saw on someone else’s monitor that we were over Greenland. Just as I was beginning to get tired (it was now midnight, Pacific time) the lights came on. It was morning in Europe. We were handed hot towels to freshen up with, our morning “shower.” Breakfast was served shortly afterward. It wasn’t quite as impressive as dinner, but still quite good. We were making our decent into Germany.

We landed at 10:00 am in Frankfurt, and exited the plane down some stairs out onto the tarmac. It was cold and there was snow on the ground beyond the runways, but the sun was shining brightly and the skies were clear. We were herded onto shuttle busses that conveyed us to the main airport, which was enormous. I was amazed at how much English there was everywhere. All the signs were in both languages, it was very easy to find my way around and get where I needed to go.

I had to go through customs, which was easy, and also through security again. I was amazed at how much more lax the security is abroad compared to the US. I got to keep my shoes on, even. Then travel quite a long way to my terminal for my connecting flight. I was supposed to meet my friend Alana, who I had previously corresponded with and knew we were on the same flight into Florence, but there was no sign of her at the gate. So I just waited. I noticed my friend Yeseoul – a fellow composition major – arrive in the terminal and went over to sit with her. She had come from San Diego. Slowly, our NYU group continued to grow, including Alana who had fainted on her flight and was thus somewhat delayed. She was fine, though. Soon there were between 20 and 30 of us waiting for our flight at 4:25.

The time went fast and I passed most of it writing this blog entry.

We finally started “boarding” for our flight to Florence, but discovered that we really had to go down under the terminal and get on buses which then took us out to the plane. It was one of the small ones because it was just a short flight. I was asleep before we took off, and everything seemed to be going fine. Or so I thought. As we started descending into Florence, I suddenly felt the engine roar at full blast and the plane jerk back upward. We weren’t landing in Florence. The pilot came on and made an announcement in German. No translation was offered.

After about 20 minutes, another announcement was made in German and then in English. Poor weather conditions (wind) made it impossible to land and take off in Florence, so we had been re-routed to Bologna, about one hour north of Florence, where buses would then be provided to take us down to Florence. The wait for those buses to come, however, was extremely long. Almost as long as the wait for our luggage to get off the plane. It was my first taste of the “Italian time” I’d heard so much about. Things are just slower here.

Not all of us (or our luggage) fit on the first bus, so some of us had to wait for a second. It was another hour and twenty minute ride to the Florence airport. I tried feebly to look out the windows of the bus and catch a glimpse of Italy, but I succumbed to my exhaustion. A shuttle was waiting for us to take us to Villa La Pietra, where NYU is located.

I checked in, called my mom, found my room, saw a couple of friends who were already here, showered, wrote this entry, and collapsed into the bed I will become quite familiar with over the next four months.