We Leave at Dusk
May. 17th, 2008 07:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kyrasantae
0600 (BST). Even the plastic drinking cups say "British Airways" on the bottom. The flight attendants have just told us to close the window blinds, and although we took off in darkness, the miracle of flight has the sky brightening already. Though it was almost an hour ago, I think the flight safety video was charming. Charmingly British, of course. It's all cartoon, not like the ones with all of the actors whom were probably offered way too much money just to persuade them to take part. Most of the flight attendants are men, too. The men wore nice suits and tie, then swapped their jackets for vests. Anyway...the flight is also only about half full. There's no one next to me but in the aisle seat is an old Indian man who has just received his special Indian meal. It smells really good. the aircraft is quite spacious, and the Indian meal appears to be saag aloo (spinach and peas and potatoes with rice). The only movie showing on this flight that half-interests me is "The Golden Compass" and honestly I don't really feel all that compelled to watch it. Or to watch "Cars" or "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" with Johnny Depp again, as much as I like his crazy character. (And this is out of, like, more than 10 movie channels, so maybe I'm just that tired of Hollywood.)
0700 (BST) There's really nothing like a bit of crappy red wine to put me into a mood for bed. The apple blueberry pie was delicious though. There's a guy behind me named Jan who is going to Norway and Denmark, the places of his ancestry. He doesn't like salmiakki.
1000 (BST) They couldn't switch the lights off in the cabin for our sleeping convenience, but that doesn't keep me from sleeping. What does, however, is a nauseous feeling I had for almost two hours. That's the trouble with alcohol, I guess. (There's a pub crawl scheduled somewhere on the social events programme for the summer school. Guess who's not attending -- and this is by principle, not because of insomnia-inducing nauseous sensations.) People are sleeping across the empty seats. Indian guy beside me is reading the Times (of London). Jan is sleeping. This here is always day because they can't turn the lights off, and the crew is profusely apologetic and wordy about it because they don't need to translate announcements into x number of other languages. This is somehow getting me excited about hearing Finnish. And Swedish, for that matter.
0700 (BST) There's really nothing like a bit of crappy red wine to put me into a mood for bed. The apple blueberry pie was delicious though. There's a guy behind me named Jan who is going to Norway and Denmark, the places of his ancestry. He doesn't like salmiakki.
1000 (BST) They couldn't switch the lights off in the cabin for our sleeping convenience, but that doesn't keep me from sleeping. What does, however, is a nauseous feeling I had for almost two hours. That's the trouble with alcohol, I guess. (There's a pub crawl scheduled somewhere on the social events programme for the summer school. Guess who's not attending -- and this is by principle, not because of insomnia-inducing nauseous sensations.) People are sleeping across the empty seats. Indian guy beside me is reading the Times (of London). Jan is sleeping. This here is always day because they can't turn the lights off, and the crew is profusely apologetic and wordy about it because they don't need to translate announcements into x number of other languages. This is somehow getting me excited about hearing Finnish. And Swedish, for that matter.
