I'm barely functional as I write this. We've been back in Seattle for less than a day after 26 hour traveling and not much sleep. But we're here. I'm eating the enormous Bing cherries that are three times the size and heft of any other cherry I've had the last year. They were part of a $200 grocery expedition this morning. Goodbye breadbox-size half-brown loaf for 80 cents, hello $5 bread the size of a pencil box.
The flight...sssz were okay. I was mostly worried about the airports, especially Frankfurt's, but everything went fine, even in Frankfurt, when we had just the hour layover, and still had to wait for everyone to deplane then board a bus and then ride to a faraway terminal and then walk to a farther away terminal and then go through security again and then arrive at the last second for the transatlantic fight, five middle seats in five different rows. There was no horror show with wedding rings and metal bottles that separated me from my family for forty of the most stressful minutes of my life as there were the first time. Even in the Denver airport, where we would go through passport control, baggage claim and customs, and then re-check our eight bags and go through security once more, we were okay. But by the time the weather kept us on the runway for near two hours, we had already been seated for 19, and the extra time was difficult. Stephanie sat beside me kicking her feet while I read the Skymall catalogue over and over again. But happily, this wasn't stress; it was fatigue.
First glimpses of America came by way of the American airport: In passport control, a woman in boots and a ten gallon hat and a volunteer pin, generous with a chipper greeting and where've you been, waved us to the next line. And thereafter, service workers seemed thrilled to help and anticipated so many needs or desires or discomforts explicitly, it was like they were hosting a party. On the airplane, we were told to watch our heads, or that they had closed the overhead bins that were full so any bin still open is available, and is that all right for you, and I know these seats are a little tight and we're sorry. America! The customer service, man: I never paid that much attention. There was also so much context for everything: On the plane people were given the usual passenger rules, like wearing seatbelts or people at exits wearing shoes for emergency contingencies, or turning off electronic devices, but everything was also explained in such detail and with such sincerity, one felt like the people giving the rules had thought of the ideas themselves. And the flight attendant actually checked every single seatbelt, really checked, because she seemed to really, sincerely care that everyone was securely fastened. We've been through so many security checkpoints and borders in Europe, and almost always I felt the agents were just going through assigned steps, confirmed at various points when language barriers ended in exasperated waves for me to just go on through.
In the two American airports we visited yesterday, there were fat people in wheelchairs and motorized scooters everywhere.
Interruption: We just spoke to our friends Brett and Jed. Jed said, "So you worked less, exercised less, ate more, and drank more. I want to move to Hungary."
The flight...sssz were okay. I was mostly worried about the airports, especially Frankfurt's, but everything went fine, even in Frankfurt, when we had just the hour layover, and still had to wait for everyone to deplane then board a bus and then ride to a faraway terminal and then walk to a farther away terminal and then go through security again and then arrive at the last second for the transatlantic fight, five middle seats in five different rows. There was no horror show with wedding rings and metal bottles that separated me from my family for forty of the most stressful minutes of my life as there were the first time. Even in the Denver airport, where we would go through passport control, baggage claim and customs, and then re-check our eight bags and go through security once more, we were okay. But by the time the weather kept us on the runway for near two hours, we had already been seated for 19, and the extra time was difficult. Stephanie sat beside me kicking her feet while I read the Skymall catalogue over and over again. But happily, this wasn't stress; it was fatigue.
First glimpses of America came by way of the American airport: In passport control, a woman in boots and a ten gallon hat and a volunteer pin, generous with a chipper greeting and where've you been, waved us to the next line. And thereafter, service workers seemed thrilled to help and anticipated so many needs or desires or discomforts explicitly, it was like they were hosting a party. On the airplane, we were told to watch our heads, or that they had closed the overhead bins that were full so any bin still open is available, and is that all right for you, and I know these seats are a little tight and we're sorry. America! The customer service, man: I never paid that much attention. There was also so much context for everything: On the plane people were given the usual passenger rules, like wearing seatbelts or people at exits wearing shoes for emergency contingencies, or turning off electronic devices, but everything was also explained in such detail and with such sincerity, one felt like the people giving the rules had thought of the ideas themselves. And the flight attendant actually checked every single seatbelt, really checked, because she seemed to really, sincerely care that everyone was securely fastened. We've been through so many security checkpoints and borders in Europe, and almost always I felt the agents were just going through assigned steps, confirmed at various points when language barriers ended in exasperated waves for me to just go on through.
In the two American airports we visited yesterday, there were fat people in wheelchairs and motorized scooters everywhere.
Interruption: We just spoke to our friends Brett and Jed. Jed said, "So you worked less, exercised less, ate more, and drank more. I want to move to Hungary."
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