an céad lá--Friday, August 10--the herding

So often these days you hear that travel, especially by plane, is more difficult than its been in years--for obvious reasons. Since 9-11, the airline industry has had to cut back services due to reduced demand. now, however, it seems that people are becoming bold again, since no major atacks have happened here on american soil, i suppose, and the demand for service has increased faster than the airlines can provide it. just one reason, i suppose, that delays at airports are the worst in 17 years or so, at least thats what i heard on NPR. i'm sure the weather has alot to do with it at times as well. al lthis was in my mind as we drove to the airport about 4 hours before my flight. My sister Sarah drove me, and my girfriend, partner, best friend, whatever you wish, came along to see me off safely. i was nervous as hell!

that day the weather was not cooperative. it was cloudy, rainy, and visibility was low. i left from Boston Logan airport. my flight was scheduled to leave at 4:35pm. i was to catch a connecton at JFK at 6:something pm, to arrive in Ireland at about 9 in the morning local time. very good on paper. very clear.

so they anticipated that my flight may be delayed and i might miss my connection, so they put me on standby for an earlier flight so that even if the standby flight was delayed it might be in JFK on time for me to connect. so i waited. that flight WAS delayed, of course. but inexperienced traveler that i am, i kept waiting even though i should have been going to the other gate to get my original flight! which actually boarded on time! if i hadn't heard the final boarding call for my original flight, i would have been in Boston Logan airport to this day. i'm sure of that. especially in light of what happened on my return flight. but that's another story.

so i ran.

i wasn't carrying much. just a backpack--not too heavy. so that wasn't the reason i nearly had a bleeding heart attack when i finally got to the proper gate. no. i was out of shape. waking up your heart and lungs with a quarter mile sprint through an airport carrying a backpack isn't really recomended by doctors as the best way to start an exerise regimen--and that for a reason i reckon.

in any case when i finally stumbled into the right gate, i whisked myself onto the plane, and plopped into my seat panting and shaking, desperate for water. no sooner had i sat down when i heard the flight attendant announce that there was to be a further 2 hour delay. excellent. and that we all should get of the plane if we were making connections, because there would be representatives waiting for us at the gate to help us figure out how we were going to work it all out. which basically meant that i had to get out of the plane and stand in a huge line while the clock ticked off the time to my flight from JFK to Shannon.

in spite of my mood at that time, i was having a pleasant conversation with the man behind me in line--a frequent flier who seemed not to be too worried at the prospect of spending the night in a crappy Delta-provided hotel in Boston. whereas i--i was pissed. i spent the whole summer working out the details of my trip! i got a bus ticket online from Shannon to Dingle for the next day. i booked my accomodation 2 months in advance! everyting was arranged, god dammit! this wasnt fair.

well the next thing i knew we were all being herded into the plane again. baa baa. moo moo. the flight to JFK was to be 45 minutes. my flight to Shannon left in about an hour.

we got to JFK just in time for me so jog, not sprint, to my gate and get directly on the plane. the original sprint must have done me some good because the palpitations weren't nearly as severe this time around. and international flights generally leave on time, or so i hear. and so we did.

the flight. if i wasn't nervous enough about missing my flight, i was terrified of the flight itself. i hate flying. at least i did at the time. the flights themselves were pretty good, so i think i have a better idea of what kind of turbulence is ok. i think the worst thing about the flight was that i was already braindead from all the hassle in the airport, and it was night, and i was tired but so nervous that i knew i wouldn't sleep. because if i sleep on a plane, the plane will crash. after all, it's my will that keeps all the planes in the air. it's not physics. its me. staying awake. keeping everyone safe.

no need to thank me.

i took melatonin to try to put me to sleep, which works great here a home. i'm out in about a half hour when i take a pill. different story on the plane. for one thing, you're not in your bed on a plane. i think they should create a "Sleeping Class" in addition to first and coach, because i think it would be very popular. also, there's all kinds of stuff going on in the cabin--food being served (thank GOD for that!!!), movies flashing on multiple screens, people noises, plane noises, flight attendants joking and getting to know each other, or catching up on travel stories--all sorts of distractions. at least i had a row of three seats to myself, right at the back of the plane, so i guess i had the most peaceful spot possible, not counting the fact that the food prep area and the flight attendant break area are right there as well. so i got to know them sort of vicariously. i wonder how they're doing...

anyway the melatonin didn't work. i dozed but didn't sleep. i read alot--nearly finished the book "The Amber Spyglass" by Phillip Pullman--part of the "His Dark Materials" sequence. (http://www.randomhouse.com/features/pullman/) The first book, "The Golden Compass," is coming out as a movie this Christmas. Look for it in theaters near you. The movie they played on the plane really sucked. and it wasn't just that i didn't have the sound on. i tried watching it for a while with the sound on, and it really really sucked. some cheezy murder mysery with tacky cinematography.

that brings me to Ireland and the next day of my journey, which i guarantee will be just as exciting as the first! tune in next time for my bus ride, Tigh Bhric and my first pint of Guinness in Ireland. Sweet.

From my journal...

8-10-07, JFK
Jesus—ní féidir liom na heachtraí a tharla dom a mhíniú. Ar dtús—bhíos ar feitheamh (standby?) ar éitlt uimhir a 5513, cé go raibh an fíor éitilt agam uimhir a 697, nó pé rud. Agus 5514 ag an ngeata 14. rinne mé dearmad dul go geata 14 ag an am a ba chóir. Agus ba bheag nár cailleas an éitleán agus bhí sé déanach goleor leis! Thángas go dtí an aerfort go díreach, agus iad ag ligeant na daoine ar an eitleán. Anois, mé m' shuí i ndeireadh an eitleán, ag tnúth go mór mór go dtí go bhfuil an turas thart.

Tá súil agam go mainfaimid Éire amach go sabháilte!

an lá dár gcionn...
...beagnach in Éirinn. Beimid ag teacht i dtír i níos lú ná uair a chloig.

...tá pían, AN-phían, im' thóin. Tá sé briste!

Uh oh, turbulence. Is fuath liom suaiteacht.

Níor chodailmé ach cúpla néal—so, tuirse orm. Ach, tá m'fhiacla scuaibthe agus braon caife ólta agam.

Uh oh, tuilleadh suaiteachta...

agus b'shin a méid go dtí an dara lá déag den mhí...slán go fóill!