Okay, there's no turning back! I've decided that Sunday's are going to be my 'Updating Day', whether I like it or not (note this post was started on Sunday afternoon, I swear). Take it as following the Post Secret model, if you will. I'll share one of my wild Greek tales or random anecdotes from my time in Greece each week; and, of course, I'll definitely take suggestions for material. I plan to drag this on as long as possible, until I either completely run out of things to say or I simply don't remember anything more... and the latter is highly unlikely, I should hope!
So we'll start with the most recent, mainly because it's probably the funniest; and since I've denied you all so long, I owe you all something a lil' bit special. As we all know, I have this undeniably rotten luck with airports. Furthermore, I just happen to have some of the most bizarre -- practically surreal -- experiences there, too (see one of my first posts having first arrived in Athens, if you don't believe me). At first, I thought that everyone has at least something horrible or ridiculous happen to them whilst traveling by air -- I just assumed that airports were naturally chaotic and attracted rude (or flat-out weird) individiuals. But it literally shocked me when I ask people, "So how was the flight?", full heartedly expecting, "Oh dear gawd, lemme tell ya..."; but all I get is, "Eh, you know, it was alright." Who knows, perhaps I'm just more observant -- or overdramatic?
Anyhow, so the flight back was no exception. It was all-around much better than the initial flight, but still it had it's fair share of moments. I was the last of students to leave for the airport that day - everyone had already been out of the apartment by 7am-ish, but I didn't leave until 5pm - so the extra time to sit in the empty apartment and wander the streets of Athens gave me plenty of time to let it all sink in. I began to miss the girls I met terribly, and I just wasn't ready to head back to the States. Needless to say, I became a big blubbering mess when I finally got in my taxi, and did all in my power not to start wailing like mad on the ride. I watched the city roll by on the 30min drive to the airport, and the very friendly taxi driver tried his hardest to tell me "good bye" in English; but we ended up laughing hysterically at each other's bad pronunciations and it made me start to miss my time in Greece even more. He walked my stuff up to the terminal, I paid him, and he flashed me a huge smile with loud a "Goo' Bi-ee!"
I walked up to the British Airways check-in and got my ticket for the flight. I went through passport control and everything just fine and made my way to the central part of the airport. Realizing that the current book I was reading (an Agatha Christie, courtesy of one of my roommates) was getting close to the end, I decided to grab another book from one of the shops. I picked up "Memoirs of a Geisha" because, well, it's only one I could find that I had any remote interest in. I then headed to my gate to mellow out for a while before my flight. That's when it hit -- the overwhelming feeling of being relived, upset, sad, excited, fulfilled, yet unsatisfied. I curled up on one of the benches in far corner and cried like a baby. Not just the tears and little sniffle, oh no; it was the whole choking on your emotions with the heavy sighs and *blehhhhhh-uhh-eeee!* kind of noises. I thought that I was the only one on the side of the gate so I didn't stifle myself too much, but then this well-dressed, older Italian man quickly waddled toward me with a very concerned look and deciding which language he was going to talk to me in -- he stuck with Italian. All I could do was produce a limp smile and squeak out, "I m-m-miss my fr-r-r-r-iends!" He gave me the same weak smile back and waddled back to his younger wife with hair extensions far too long. I managed to control myself enough not to attract anymore attention, and prayed that everything would go well enough.
We boarded the first plane to London-Heathrow, and I was sat next to this little English man with whom I exchanged a few pleasantries. We both sat quiet for the first little while, he reading his paper and me trying to read Agatha Christie. Well, the motion sickness kicked in long before I expected, and I could only manage a few chapters before getting nauseas and putting the book in the chair pocket in front of me. I popped in my earphones to watch the in flight movie ("Amazing Grace", which was absolutely terrible), but noticed that the man next to me had already downed a gin-and-tonic and a glass of white wine. During the in flight meal, he ordered another glass of red wine. Mind you, this flight wasn't terribly long, and I wasn't kidding when I was he was little. After finishing the last drop of his wine (and having sat in silence for nearly 2 hours already), he turns to me with a big sigh and slurs, "Sho... were ah' you goin', hmm?" It all went down from there, but in the most silly way. I told him of my trip to Greece and he of all his journeys here and there, and of course he tries to impress me with all his 'knowledge' of America and the places he's been there. After having one of the most awkward (and slightly laughable) conversations with this man about travel and the differences between Europeans and Americans, he finally asks me if I've been to London. "It's on my 'Top 10' list," I say. "AH!" he shrieks, "It should be Number 1!" "Well, only because you said so," say trying now to laugh. "Not because I said so, but because I think you'd absolutely love it! I can't believe someone like you has only been out of the country once," he retorts. "Uh, someone like me?" "Yes! You know, because you have the pretties!" At that point I couldn't hold my laughing back anymore. I wasn't sure how to respond, but I'm sure I blushed. I did, however, enjoy the conversation, despite how mildly ridiculous it all was, because it distracted me from all the worries I had before. At the end of the flight, he tried to convince me to go out and wander London during my 12 hour lay-over in Heathrow, but seeing that it was from 9pm-9am, I told him that I'd rather stay put. He shrugged his shoulders and with a "Suit ya'self, good luck with all your future travels!" he was gone.
And that, my friends, was just the beginning... more airport adventures to come! =]
-C
This isn't going to kiss itself, British Air.
Anyhow, so the flight back was no exception. It was all-around much better than the initial flight, but still it had it's fair share of moments. I was the last of students to leave for the airport that day - everyone had already been out of the apartment by 7am-ish, but I didn't leave until 5pm - so the extra time to sit in the empty apartment and wander the streets of Athens gave me plenty of time to let it all sink in. I began to miss the girls I met terribly, and I just wasn't ready to head back to the States. Needless to say, I became a big blubbering mess when I finally got in my taxi, and did all in my power not to start wailing like mad on the ride. I watched the city roll by on the 30min drive to the airport, and the very friendly taxi driver tried his hardest to tell me "good bye" in English; but we ended up laughing hysterically at each other's bad pronunciations and it made me start to miss my time in Greece even more. He walked my stuff up to the terminal, I paid him, and he flashed me a huge smile with loud a "Goo' Bi-ee!"
I walked up to the British Airways check-in and got my ticket for the flight. I went through passport control and everything just fine and made my way to the central part of the airport. Realizing that the current book I was reading (an Agatha Christie, courtesy of one of my roommates) was getting close to the end, I decided to grab another book from one of the shops. I picked up "Memoirs of a Geisha" because, well, it's only one I could find that I had any remote interest in. I then headed to my gate to mellow out for a while before my flight. That's when it hit -- the overwhelming feeling of being relived, upset, sad, excited, fulfilled, yet unsatisfied. I curled up on one of the benches in far corner and cried like a baby. Not just the tears and little sniffle, oh no; it was the whole choking on your emotions with the heavy sighs and *blehhhhhh-uhh-eeee!* kind of noises. I thought that I was the only one on the side of the gate so I didn't stifle myself too much, but then this well-dressed, older Italian man quickly waddled toward me with a very concerned look and deciding which language he was going to talk to me in -- he stuck with Italian. All I could do was produce a limp smile and squeak out, "I m-m-miss my fr-r-r-r-iends!" He gave me the same weak smile back and waddled back to his younger wife with hair extensions far too long. I managed to control myself enough not to attract anymore attention, and prayed that everything would go well enough.
We boarded the first plane to London-Heathrow, and I was sat next to this little English man with whom I exchanged a few pleasantries. We both sat quiet for the first little while, he reading his paper and me trying to read Agatha Christie. Well, the motion sickness kicked in long before I expected, and I could only manage a few chapters before getting nauseas and putting the book in the chair pocket in front of me. I popped in my earphones to watch the in flight movie ("Amazing Grace", which was absolutely terrible), but noticed that the man next to me had already downed a gin-and-tonic and a glass of white wine. During the in flight meal, he ordered another glass of red wine. Mind you, this flight wasn't terribly long, and I wasn't kidding when I was he was little. After finishing the last drop of his wine (and having sat in silence for nearly 2 hours already), he turns to me with a big sigh and slurs, "Sho... were ah' you goin', hmm?" It all went down from there, but in the most silly way. I told him of my trip to Greece and he of all his journeys here and there, and of course he tries to impress me with all his 'knowledge' of America and the places he's been there. After having one of the most awkward (and slightly laughable) conversations with this man about travel and the differences between Europeans and Americans, he finally asks me if I've been to London. "It's on my 'Top 10' list," I say. "AH!" he shrieks, "It should be Number 1!" "Well, only because you said so," say trying now to laugh. "Not because I said so, but because I think you'd absolutely love it! I can't believe someone like you has only been out of the country once," he retorts. "Uh, someone like me?" "Yes! You know, because you have the pretties!" At that point I couldn't hold my laughing back anymore. I wasn't sure how to respond, but I'm sure I blushed. I did, however, enjoy the conversation, despite how mildly ridiculous it all was, because it distracted me from all the worries I had before. At the end of the flight, he tried to convince me to go out and wander London during my 12 hour lay-over in Heathrow, but seeing that it was from 9pm-9am, I told him that I'd rather stay put. He shrugged his shoulders and with a "Suit ya'self, good luck with all your future travels!" he was gone.
And that, my friends, was just the beginning... more airport adventures to come! =]
-C
This isn't going to kiss itself, British Air.
3 comments:
postsecret!! i showed you that! :)
oh, and i cried halfway to the airport too (you saw me start). i don't think the cab driver really knew what to do with cassie and me. and then i cried some more when i got on the plane, and i couldn't stop til about 20 minutes into the flight :(
Yay for keeping the Greek memories alive Celia! I loooove reading your blog, you're so funny :)
And I completely agree with you and Amanda, I was a sobbing mess as well, but not until I reached JFK in NY for some odd reason. As I was waiting for my flight to Tampa to board, there was a "Last call for Athens. Please board, last call for Athens" and I completely lost it. I didn't recover until a good half an hour later when our plane took off.
As for suggestions for good stories...what about our adventures in the Turkish bazaar our first night in Kusadasi?
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