December 27th, 2005

me: wrong side of the mirror

Day 1: Arrival

As we sit on the freezing runway at Heathrow, a few desultory flakes drift innocuously past the window. Shortly thereafter it begins to snow in earnest, and the plane must be de-iced before we can leave. I can feel nothing but glee at escaping such weather, although our companions, who are acclimated to the cold, seem slightly miffed at missing snow in London.

The journey to NYC passes uneventfully, although the service is abysmal and many passengers, including me, end up severely dehydrated. The second leg is delayed by a pair of brightly clad Italians reeking of cologne, who race on board trailed by gales of laughter and applause from their already seated friends. The plane is jammed with Puerto Ricans going home and a low, happy babble of Spanish rises from the seats around us. Marco is blessed three times. First, a lady with a less than firm grip on a McDonald's bag containing a coke tries to stuff far too much into an overhead bin. Second, a flight attendant drops a bottle of wine while trying to rearrange the overcrowded bin. Finally, the child behind us somehow manages to fling her cup of water in such a way that it splashes the people in the row ahead of us as well. Everyone claps and cheers when the plane lands, including us. Collapse )