How to fly around the world, in a month, in economy..
28
August 2002
No, I don't suffer from jetlag, not me. I always felt a certain amount of pride with that knowledge. Like I was invincible. Me, need homeopathic remedies for jetlag? Huh, not likely! I laugh in the face of jetlag. I can sleep anywhere, anytime. I come off a twenty-two hour flight fresh as a daisy…but like the other old adage, pride comes before a fall!
I flew into New Zealand
a nearly two weeks ago and fly back on Thursday to tread the boards in
New York. Yep, for those of you who have followed my progress in the States,
remember the story, 'Character Teeth and First Audition in New York'?
Well, first audition has also turned out to be first acting job. Broadway
is getting closer (I will be off off Broadway I imagine but you have to
start somewhere right?).
I went on that audition for the experience, no more, no less, so although I can tell you my character's name, I have not even read the play yet. Even I acknowledge that it sounds kind of peculiar when friends ask me about the role and the play and I have to answer, 'I have no idea'.
I could be playing a tree named Lorraine for all I know…I'm sure if I looked into it enough I would find hundreds of well established actors who began their careers as a tree…ok, maybe not hundreds, maybe not even dozens…maybe I'll be the first...hang on, the Director does want me to have a read through with the leading guy and I know trees don't talk! Don't worry I will definitely read the play prior to committing to it.
When I heard I got the part I was in LA airport counting down my 8 hour sentence (or transit stop as it is so cunningly named). Grim. There was only so much duty free shopping I could do. I went and hid between the aisles in a bookshop and sat on the floor to read magazines hoping the shop manager wouldn't come over and tell me, 'this is not a library, either buy it or get out'.
Thankfully, I think he choose to ignore my presence. I don't know how I would have reacted if he had told me to get out, as lack of sleep and me equals birth of Greek mythology monster renown for tearing off limbs with a single snap of the jaw!
My body was none too impressed with the following itinery it was forced to endure: New York to London - 8 hour flight and different time zone. A week later, London to LA - 10 hour flight and another time zone…8 hours in transit at LA airport then a 12 hour flight LA to New Zealand, yet again another time zone, then a week later back to New York and yes you guessed it another time zone. (They really get to me those time zones!) Believe me, the novelty of flying wore off 2 flights ago!
I would have been fine if I was flying in Business or First class (who wouldn't be!?) where the seats go down to allow you to sleep properly. And, I did ask at every check in about the possibility of an upgrade. I have heard (but never experienced!) that people get upgraded on a regular basis if they ask but I think that may be an urban legend introduced to instil hope in mugs like me!
The seat I get allocated on an international flight in economy is crucial to how the flight goes. I just about hold my breath as I peer anxiously down the aisle looking for my seat number, 'please, please don't put me in the centre seat in the block of seats in the middle of the plane…by a child who can't sleep'. Someone was obviously having a laugh at me on the flight from London to LA (a good long 10 hour laugh at that!) as that's exactly what I got!
I got to know him pretty well, (let's face it, ten hours is longer than some relationships last for!) and as any young kid he was well prepared for any emergency. He brought in his own provisions in case the airline didn't cater for his dietary needs. (Like a vegetarian but in his case junk food). He came well stocked with chocolates and chippies believe me (loving kids in small enclosed spaces on sugar rushes!). And in case there wasn't enough choice of movies from the 9 we could watch, (not to mention the numerous T.V channels) he brought his own game boy.
Naturally reading material was a must and he had 5 books to choose from…none of which he could read, 'so would I be so kind…?' Pleasant surprise was he could sleep, (only after we had read most of Harry Potter, books 1, 2 and part of 3…yep I'm a skimmer) but only if his head was either on my shoulder or lap. And guess where his parents were? Up the front in business class! Hmm, very clever move indeed I thought. Being the caring parents they were they came down twice in the ten hour flight to check that he was ok, all the while eyeing me up suspiciously as if I had plans to abduct their precious bundle! (I'm surprised they didn't offer my a job quite frankly!)
Luckily my bladder managed the ten hours ok as my prospects weren't looking too hot if I had to make an emergency exit to the toilet. I was sitting in the middle of 3 men and 1 male child so I had to wait for either side to be awake. That or climb out over them, and I wasn't too keen on the prospect of one of them waking up mid climb over! That had the potential to be a very embarrassing moment!
Now I know what it feels like to be a battery chicken. In the twenty-two hours in flight (excluding the 8 hours hanging around LA airport!) the airline had their system for keeping their clients docile and obedient down to a fine art. Keep the food and drink flowing! Starting off with a snack (a teaser while you are still excited at the prospect of being locked in an over air conditioned, claustrophobic, metal cylinder for ridiculous amounts of time seated be people invading your personal space) while you settle in.
Seven minutes later you probably read and order drinks, then half an hour later, out comes your first meal, then watch a movie, perhaps sleep (for the fortunate few who can), wake up, eat again, watch another movie, sleep again, wake up, eat again, watch another movie, and so it goes on until we arrived at our destination. By the time I got to New Zealand I felt like I had donned the fat suit from the movie, Shallow Hal.
The last leg of my trip (why is it called 'leg', does anyone know? Why not arm?) was just as interesting an experience…except instead of a man-child I had the dubious pleasure of sitting next to the farter extraordinaire. The kind who doesn't acknowledge and take ownership of the sound or odour as it escapes from their person. Fine if you can both laugh about it but he was in denial! Initially I thought, 'is that me? Man I pong'! And as discreetly as possible sniffed my clothes (pretty hard to do discreetly at the best of times let alone with someone sitting ten centimetres away!).
But no wasn't me…to my relief! I had visions of my companion complaining to the crew about my personal hygiene and requesting to be moved on grounds of suffocation. What gave him away well and truly was when he got up to go to the toilet…out from his seat wafted the remains of a dead…something! (Do you think they dry-clean those seats?) That and the audible appreciation (which we both pretended not to hear) of the evening meal gave him away. Ahhh, the joys of flying!
Luckily the crew on every flight were superb and business seems to be thriving as far as I could make out. But guess what I'm doing today…buying Homeopathic jetlag pills and an eye mask! A girl's got to get her sleep!
See you back in New
York City…
(You can also read about what I am up to on www.nzoom.co.nz under entertainment - rant.)
Regards,
romiley
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