Having only flown to New Orleans regularly from Los Angeles for school, I was in unknown territory flying to Rome. I found myself, for the first time in my life, in a I-don’t-know-the-language situation when I boarded the Russian Airlines plane like a freshman in high school, trying to look experienced, but knowing that I did not know what I was doing at all. I did what I knew from previous plane rides, although domestic; I listened. When the hustle and bustle of the passengers began to simmer down I heard the pilot begin to speak words, but I wasn’t sure what he was saying. It was quite simple; I don’t speak Russian, so I didn’t understand what he was saying. But just like the white knight rides in on his noble steed and cuts the dragon’s head off as it is about to bite the princess’s head off, I was saved. After the pilot spoke in Russian, one of the flight attendants said the same thing in English. And hearing this, my anxiety cleared, my breathing returned to normal, and I was able to reassure myself that I would just be fine. I would be just fine and could focus on the huge task that was now at hand; being on a plane for the next twelve hours.
The flight was somewhat quick in retrospect, but as always I went in with an idea of what I would do, a plan, if you will. But I am here to tell you that nothing went according to that plan. I had, a week before, been asking friends about what books I should look into to read on the plane, because that was my plan, to read a book, an entire book on the plane ride. But just as we all tell ourselves that we will commit to a strict salad, vegetables, and no sweets diet, I quickly ripped open the box of chocolates and watched two movies on the plane. I assure you, you would have done the same thing, had you browsed the airline’s library of movies. After this I was treated to another of many firsts to come; airline meals. This was followed by about two hours of doodling that became my usual calligraphic endeavors with the name of my love Jasmine. After this, one more feature film, followed by a second meal, followed by my attempt at sleep, not a nap, on a plane.
I must tell you that it was not an easy task.
I must tell you that I was dead set on sleeping.
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| Boarding the plane from Moscow to Rome. One of many firsts to come. |
I must tell you that I tossed.
And turned.
And moved pillows this way and that and finally, with the help of music from the airlines vast library of albums from Amy Winehouse to Daft Punk, I was able to drift off into a peaceful, blissful sleep that carried me through the rest of my flight.
Upon arriving in Moscow, although hungry once more, I sought out to find the gate for my connecting flight and to make sure it hadn't changed. It had, but luckily for me my layover was four hours and the gate that it had moved to was not far at all. Having all the essentials out of the way, I turned my attention to getting a cold, refreshing soda. The first I found was Pepsi and it was amazing. The taste so much different than American Pepsi, but still great, although I have always been a Coca-Cola enthusiast, I had to have a taste of the soda in Moscow, albeit in the airport and extremely overpriced.
Before I knew it, my layover was over and I was making line to board the plane to Rome. I found myself overcome with excitement.
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