Part One: Delta Dawn
Knowing the importance of allowing time for unexpected delays and incorrigibly punctual anyway, we arrive at his majesty the King of Thailand's truly "majestic" and state of the art airport Delta's recommended three hours early. That means we are there at 3:00 am for a 6:00 flight.
Good thinking...there is already a line forming at the check-in. Let me rephrase that. The line isn't "forming" as much as it is "congealing." As our fellow Bangkok to Narita flyers are joining the line at the end, no one in the front seems to be leaving it, at least not very quickly. Average check-in time per person seems to be about twenty to thirty minutes. We have time to make friends with the couple ahead of us and to inadvertently do something to lose that new bond.
Confused mumbles turn to muttering in the line. A revolution is brewing. Soon an obviously harried young man is sent out by his cowardly supervisors to inform us all that there is a problem. Well, we knew there was a problem, but now we know what is causing it.
There is a computer glitch and the attendants must fill out all the boarding passes by hand. Yes, by hand. For each person . For each leg of the journey, the attendants take a totally blank card and imagine that there are boxes on it. Then they mimic the form of a printed boarding pass and fill in the myriad bits of information in the imaginary rectangles with neat little Thai-inflected penmanship. This information is culled from reams of dot matrix printouts tangled around their ankles on the floor beneath them. The result looks as professional as the tab in a mom and pop noodle restaurant. We pick up the bill and move along. Because we are warned that we shouldn't delay the second part, the security procedure at the gate, very long, we hustle to the security stations and look around...
It's empty of course: the rest of the potential passengers are all back at step one or already on the plane.The security staff are sitting here bored as shit, yawning and snapping their gum. Some perk up at the sight of some relief from the lack of anything to do. Nell's body searcher does an unnecessarily thorough search. My young lady performs her function with the facial expression people have when picking up after their dog at the park. We're done in record time and proceed to the gate. On the way we see a somewhat disturbing sight --two pilots running towards the adjacent gate . They are carrying boxes of Dunkin' Donuts.
As if to prove that they are not totally incompetent, Delta immediately announces that boarding will start early. It's obvious that their strategy is to get us "lucky" few who came early and got through in our seats so we can sit and wait on the plane for those still stuck back in limbo. Our "purser" (A new term for head stewardess) begs for our patience every five minutes as we wait an hour and a half for everyone to board and forAtlanta to receive and return data about the number of passengers and the plane's weight. This last bit of arcane aviation information is not usually shared with the passengers. Does the information affect the size and caloric content of the in-flight meals? Was it worth delaying the flight to,know that white tourists are too fat?
Part Two: Samauri Sundown
We arrive in Japan at 3:16...a mere three hours or so, late but buoyed by the last minute announcement that Delta is holding all connecting flights. When the announcement is made, the economy class bursts into a communal cheer. We have come through it together and I for one felt badly about the nasty cracks I had made about many of their outfits and their constant picture- taking.
The Japanese Delta staff once again demonstrate the efficiency that seems to be part of the national character . Our flight had very few people who weren't connecting to other flights and all were nervous and out of sorts with the Thailand delay. Delta was ready for us when the doors opened. The plane was met by a phalanx of cheery attendants who quickly shuffled the hordes in a variety of different directions, all clearly marked with English and Japanese signage (Thailand, take heed of that helpful feature). When we got to our gate, there was a big table with all our boarding passes for this and the next leg printed out . It's now 4:00 and we're just about to take off only about 30 minutes late. I can't figure out why these competent, hardworking people lost WWII. My bet is that we cheated.
With one disaster avoided, I think, at least I got to see Japan, albeit, the tiny postage stamp of it I see through the window.
The trip over the Pacific and Canada takes over 11 hours this way..more the other. Reviews of on flight movies follow.
Argo
CIA guy rescues Iranian hostages by pretending they are a film company and dressing them in hideous seventies clothing like that worn by the people in our wedding album. Exciting film with John Goodman and Alan Arkin in very funny minor roles. Jack Nicholson,too. "Argofuckyourself"
Lincoln
Worst film of the year, best described as the most beautifully photographed President's Day pageant in middle school history; interesting historical facts can be learned however:
Who knew Lincoln married a woman old enough to be his mother and was a direct ancestor of Walter Brennan? "Four score and seven years ago I was stung by a dead bee."
The Hangover Part Two
Takes place mostly in two days in Bangkok. Location shooting made it interesting for me but unfortunately it captures the experience of "Bangkok" only fleetingly. See it in an crowded, overheated theater, square the craziness quotient in the plot, and you'll get closer to what it's like.
Lola Versus
Mumblecore icon Greta Gerwig faces life at 30 looking an awful lot like Courtney Greene if Court weren't so much better looking and didn't take such good care of herself. Love the wisecracking best girl buddy.
Part Three: Mini or Maxi Minneapolis? Time will tell.
Mini...The bell tolls for us...we made the last flight, not without a dash to the gate.
After the tension and confusion of parts one and to, the last lap of this halfway round the world marathon seems to be going smoothly in a roomy new jet which is seriously under booked.. It appears that through some strange conglomeration of corporate kindness and strong tail winds, we seem to be back on schedule for a dinner time arrival in Boston, sort of. One of them strangest things about traveling through so many time zones is keeping track of the days and hours. Dinner time for folks in maine is tomorrow's breakfast time for us..I think.
Home....and Emily has left it cleaner, warmer, and more homey than we ever achieve.
Click...there's no place like home...click..there's not place like home..click..but it's great to get away from home every now and then.
Why didn't anyone tell me this?
Summary thoughts to come when we recover.
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