“Boarding closed two minutes ago, it’s too late to get on the plane.”
Those are the last words anyone wants to hear, ever, at any time. EVER. But those are especially the last words anyone wants to hear after 23 hours worth of flight time plus that long ass layover in between. Yup, as you can imagine I’m feeling pretty great.
I’m stuck in Frankfurt, waiting for the next possible flight to take me home to Toulouse, and I’m soooooo tired.
So in this fever-dream state I give you the lessons I’ve learnt about travel and myself:
ALWAYS double check the departure gate.
I cry during every in-flight movie… it doesn’t matter what it is.
Eggs on a plane is just as bad an idea as snakes on a plane.
After a 12 hour flight I always emerge as a walnut. Moisturize moisturize moisturize!
Drinking on the plane sounds like a great idea until you try it.
I will always have to sit beside the least interesting person in the entire universe.
NZ flight attendants need to up their game. Their European counterparts are serving people in a million different languages and remembering which passengers speak what.
Turbulance can actually be kinda fun.
Until it really isn’t.
An hour of plane-sleep is less restful than five minutes of non-plane sleep.
Forgoing make-up means rubbing those sore sore eyes guilt free!
Even as an adult, airplane toilets are still terrifying.
Plane couples are worse than couples in any other habitat.
I must never travel again.
And there you have it. I’m sure once I finally get into my own bed (for the first time in two months) I’ll be able to put a much more positive spin on all this. But until then I think I’ll just pass-out on these chairs. You know, the ones that are spaced just a little too far apart.
Wake me before I miss the next flight as well!