Next stop, Seattle! [JAN 2017]

Actually, first it was Detroit... then Seattle... but that's not quite so catchy.

I don't really talk about it much, but I'm kind of a horrible flyer!  I think it's because I've travelled quite a bit, so people probably just assume I'm totally chill about it - and to be honest, I used to be so so good at it - but now half the time I'm a total wreck, which is kind of embarrassing.  My first long haul flight was London - Bangkok with a friend from college, before then my longest flight had been a few hours around Europe.  I figured it would be fine, lots of movies... the flight was at 22:35, so I'd just sleep through most of it, right?  Nope.  I was in the middle seat, squished between my friend and a middle aged man.  I didn't sleep at all, and had a minor panic attack five hours in... we weren't even half way.  I just remember crying and saying "I can't do this! I need to go home!" and my friend replying, "well, I don't think they're going to turn the plane around just for you, so I think you're going to have to."  I was eighteen at the time, and honestly I considered coming straight home from Thailand, 'cause how the hell was I going to cope with the other flights to New Zealand and Australia and Singapore and then all the way back?  But I somehow managed to carry on, probably my pride stopping me from returning early, and by the time we got to the fourteen hour flight from Singapore, I was totally fine.  It didn't bother me at all.  

So, I was a great flyer!  Iceland, New York, South Africa... like a pro.  It was actually the shorter flights that started to bother me a little more, because I felt fidgety and there are no movies on small planes.  BUT THEN, throwback to Mexico this summer... What a fucking joke.  I barely got through the airport.  It was some of the worst anxiety and panic I've experienced in my entire life, and looking back I'm not sure how I made it at all.  I could only get through by constantly telling myself that I could still leave.  I checked my bags, knowing that there was nothing irreplaceable in there.  I shakily went through security.  I remember in my head telling myself "okay, if the security thing goes off, that's a sign, it's a sign I shouldn't be going"... but they didn't go off and I had to keep going.  It was awful, I felt like every step I was taking was a mistake.  I remember sitting on the plane, utterly convinced I was going to die there.  I was so so close to telling one of the flight attendants that I had to get off the plane... fuck my baggage, I can't do this.  But the teeny, tiny, rational voice in my head was whispering that nothing was going to happen... and the very British voice inside of me was saying that getting off the plane as it was ready to depart would inconvenience and delay everyone else.  So, I stayed, I calmed down during the flight, and then went through the exact same thing for my connecting flight.  Only this time, I ended up hysterically crying on the floor of the toilets, absolutely terrified... Somehow, a kind flight attendant convinced me to get on the plane, and I continued to cry the whole way there.  I went through more tissues than a 14 year old boy on a Friday night in...

With that in mind, I was a little anxious about this flight.  I stayed at my sister's flat in London the night before, and she got me to the airport at 7am, which was super great because I have too many bags.  I was a little nervous, but I've had a lot of therapy and NLP and yoga since my last flight (because bitches be craaaay), so I was basically okay, probably just semi-normal, pre-flight jitters that a lot of people experience...  I definitely didn't cry this time, so that's an improvement!  I was kind of proud of myself for getting through it without the tears and hysteria, but I was mostly proud because my baggage limit was 23kg and... 

I achieved perfection. Apart from the photo quality, which is clearly appalling... 

Anyway... The best thing about the first flight was that I somehow found myself in Premium Economy.  I definitely didn't book Premium Economy (although that does seem like the kind of thing I might do by accident...).  I awkwardly said to the flight attendant "this is definitely 25D, right? because I just booked a normal seat" and she was like "oh... well, if they've put you there, I would just sit there" in a lovely Irish accent.  So I did, and subsequently felt awkward and embarrassed my entire flight, despite the fact that no one actually knew or probably cared that I was in the wrong seat.  The most uncomfortable thing about it was that I was right at the back, just a curtain separated us from the lower classes.  I felt so weird about it, I think even if I'd paid to be there it would've made me uncomfortable.  I know it's just a plane, and some people buy more expensive tickets etc. it's not a huge deal, but I didn't really like the feeling of being segregated, if I'm honest.  It's not really something I've ever though about before because I'm usually somewhere at the back of Economy, and maybe I'm just being a bit dramatic but the whole thing seemed kind of weird and elitist. 

What's it like being in Premium Economy?  Kind of almost exactly the same.

Obviously it was nicer, but a long haul flight is a long haul flight, and the differences were pretty minor... I'm not sure how much more expensive a ticket is, but having experienced it for free, I'm not sure I'd pay more than an extra £50.

Did I mention there was no one next to me?  That I had three premium economy seats to myself?  Oh right, well, I did.  They're a bit bigger and squishier with slightly more leg room (great for giants like me!) but it wasn't that exciting, because you can't lift the arm rests at all, so it's not like I could lie across them or anything.  The best thing about it, was probably that no one was talking to me, or breathing loudly or generally existing within a good few feet of where I was.  If you're going to have three seats to yourself, I would recommend economy.  It's only happened to me once, but you can lie across all three of them and it's amazing!  I did get to have my handbag on the chair next to me instead of on the floor though, which was pretty nice AND no one bashing into my elbow for ten hours, so I'm not complaining.  FYI, if any of this sounds like complaining, I'm totally not complaining... I'm just evaluating, OKAY?

So first they offer you champagne or orange juice, which I declined because I try to avoid refined sugars and alcohol - especially on long flights.  Call me boring or pretentious or whatever, but they make me ill and I'm pretty sure they contribute to making you feel more tired and dehydrated.  Planes fuck me over enough as it is, I don't need extra dehydration and exhaustion.  Water all the way! ...  Okay... Yeah, I'm boring.

Next was the food, which was a little fancier than economy, but I'm pretty sure the main difference is what it's served in.  You get real plates and real cutlery and actual glasses to drink from!  ..... Otherwise, I couldn't really tell a huge difference.  Obviously, in typical me style, I forgot to request a gluten free meal anyway, so I just kind of ate around the things I couldn't eat... Which was in fact most of it.  But what I did eat, including the chicken casserole with "mashed potato" (it was literally a hard lump, barely recognisable as potato... I nibbled half a mouthful and gave up) was very average plane food.  Luckily, I have the kind of cute friends that make me a snack hamper, so I had plenty of gluten free goodies in my bag... including gluten free pretzels.

REAL CUTLERY AND GLASSES?

Cool shaped crackers... full of gluten... didn't actually eat. 

I did appreciate these mini salt and pepper shakers and the teeny tiny bottle of dressing.  They're adorable and the salad was nice.

The tables are hidden inside the armrests, specifically to set apart the elite from those who have been seated in the wrong place by accident and subsequently can't find the table.  As far as I could tell, the tv was exactly the same, apart from you get a little touchscreen remote thing... It was pretty cool but I can't say it made a significant improvement to my journey.

I watched three films:

Bad Moms - kind of funny, but not the kind of film you'd watch more than once.  

The Conjuring 2 - kind of funny, but not the kind of you'd even need to watch once.  Appalling British accents, guys.

Me Before You - pretty good, I really want to read the book because (as is usually the case) it's probably much better.

The other thing that was noticeably different was the seatbelt (that is not just a pointless close up of my crotch).  Maybe they're all like that, I don't remember the non-premium life, but I felt like it was thicker and squishier and I'm pretty sure it said it contained an airbag... so maybe you're safer in premium economy?

Oh and the toilet!  I didn't get a picture of this, because ...  well, it would be kind of weird taking my phone with me on a plane.  I didn't even go to the toilet until I literally couldn't wait any longer because I felt like such an imposter and I was worried about the judgemental stares (which I didn't receive) ... but when I did go, it was just an average plane toilet with the added luxury of rhubarb soap and hand lotion.  Much fancier.

They also served an afternoon tea, which I obviously didn't eat, but it did look pretty good, and they came round with Amarula (which I was actually pretty tempted with) and some kind of expensive whiskey or something...

But that was basically it, slightly bigger and more comfortable seats, slightly fancier food and cutlery, equally good service.  Once again, not complaining, I'm just saying I personally wouldn't pay a lot more (unless I was super rich) for what is actual a little more...

So after that fancy schmancy flight, I had to queue for a long, long time to go through border control. I thought they'd be asking me a million and one questions, but I was interrogated less than when I went to Mexico and stopped for a couple of hours in Dallas.  The guy was so nice, he was just like "oh you have one of these visas, okely dokely, so how long are you going to be with us? what are you doing here? researching or studying? ohhh... nice... what are you studying? wow, well have a fantastic trip!" ... he probably didn't actually say "okely dokely" but he was a cheerful, chipper man.  Waaaay better than last time I came through when the guy was like "HOW LONG ARE YOU STAYING? WHY ARE YOU HERE? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?".  I did have to queue for a long time though because our flight got in just moments after a flight from China, so we were stuck behind several Chinese people.  I made a queue friend though, some guy from Reading who was coming out to marry his fiancé.  I think he said he met her when he was doing Camp America, and I believe he said she came from a rich family, worked in cancer research and she's bought their first home, which he co-owns.  This is when I pointed out that it sounded like he was really punching...  He agreed.

The long queue meant that I didn't really have to wait that long when I got to my gate and luckily for me, I got great seats again!  Not the pretentious looking first class ones, which honestly I just think look ridiculous on the small planes, but whatever... This time I was right at the front of the shitty seats, with extra leg room.  Of course, great seats come with conditions, and this time these included a crying baby right behind me and a middle seat in between two chatty Americans.  They spoke across me while I was trying to nap.

They were actually seriously nice people, so if at any point it sounds like I don't like them, that's just my British 'humour'.  On my left was a 35 year old man, who'd been living in Seattle with his wife for a year, and on my right an older woman, who must've been in her fifties or sixties, with a knee injury.  Both very American, and very sweet... Neither very good at picking up indirect British hints like, "Yeah, English people never talk this much... my whole flight from London was totally silent".

Regardless, they did teach me a lot about timezones and Americanisms and we all had a good giggle every time I asked for a drink.  I have to start saying "warder" now, because Americans laugh when you pronounce all the letters in "water".  The flight attendant and the guy next to me made up this whole joke about it, he was like "Walter? Who's Walter? I'm sorry, Walter isn't working today!"

... you probably had to be there.

I think the funniest thing was the really full on American guy... I mean, he's married, so I'm just going to assume he's a really nice guy and not a potential stalker, but he literally tried to help me with just about everything.  Getting my bags in and out of the overhead compartments, teaching me about the different US timezones and states, telling me where I should live, where I can get a SIM card, where the good yoga classes are, what apps I need, what music I should listen to to help me sleep, what movie I should watch.  I mean it was kind of sweet, but then it was annoying because I was clearly at Nap Point (that place where you really need a nap or you might bite someone) and he kept interrupting me, even if it was to plug my headphones into his phone so I could listen to an album that always helps him sleep.  He kept checking that I knew where I was going and that I'd be okay getting there.  He also said that his wife was on a different flight which arrived when we were waiting for our luggage, yet he continued to help me.  I was like "don't you need to go and meet your wife...?" and he was like "yeah, she's coming, she'll meet me in a minute" and then he helped me get my baggage, took me to where the ubers pick you up, put all my bags in the uber and then gave me his number in case I need anything.

I did mentally question whether his wife was real for a while... I just don't know any British person who would do that, even if they were hitting on you, so if this is just a kind American thing, British people are comparably unhelpful.

Anyway, I'm here, I'm safe. No sign of stalking so far and I'm staying around the corner from an organic supermarket until I find somewhere more permanent... and I love organic supermarkets.