The number haunted me. It began to steal my sleep. That number is 17.
No, it wasn’t the age I longed to return to, nor was it the amount of days I had left to live. Those dreaded digits represented something far more serious – the hours I would have to spend on a plane during my flight to Fiji.
Standing 6’4” with an equally long wing-span, the confined seats of airplanes are less than accommodating to say the least. My knees push up against the seat in front of me, and my arms are far too wide for the allotted space.
On the dreaded day, September 20, as I took my window seat I noticed the gentleman seated in front of me already had his seat reclined slightly. But then, about 30 minutes into the flight, I noticed him reach for the handle to indulge in an even greater recline. Knowing this would be the end of what little leg mobility I had remaining, I placed my hands against the back of his chair to prevent him from further invading my limited space. He clearly noticed his intention was being foiled but was unsure of the culprit. He thrust his body back, hoping the momentum would push his seat into the desired position, but my firm grip was depriving him of his desired outcome.
“No, please. I’m 6-foot-five,” I pleaded.
And yes, I did round my height up for effect. But it seemed to work because he then proceeded to decline his seat a little, giving my lengthy legs a few more precious inches to manoeuvre around.
But even more troubling than the space issues on my journey was my devastating case of airplane insomnia. I couldn’t fall asleep on a plane if my life depended on it. Come to think of it, this condition is probably related to my space issue, too.
I couldn’t help but feel envious when the man sitting two seats over fell into a deep slumber ten minutes into the flight while I sat wide awake.
The first five-hour leg of the flight, which took me to Los Angeles, wasn’t so bad. I watched Drag Me to Hell on my friend’s laptop – when that dreaded movie didn’t put me to sleep I knew there was no cure for my severe airplane insomnia.
The three-hour stopover in LA provided me with some much needed time to stretch, and I purchased some outrageously priced airport food (a fruit cup and sandwich totalling $15 American)
Then onto the real challenge: the 12 hour flight to Nadi, Fiji. I knew this would test me both mentally and physically. Again I was fortunate to get a window seat, but my luck ended there. The flight left LA near midnight so most of my fellow passengers – including my friend – immediately dosed off as I sat awake in the darkened cabin. I decided to try to sleep and I even had a few minutes of success but couldn’t stay asleep for long. In the end, I read, watched another movie, and stared out the window to pass the time.
Surprisingly the time went by fairly quickly, and soon I was landing in Nadi at 5:45 a.m. Fiji time.
My travel companion and I found a cab and started the three-hour drive to our final destination: Suva, the capital of Fiji.
Thankfully our driver let us indulge in a few of the beverages we purchased at the duty free shop. So there I was, finally in Fiji, drinking beer in the back of a cab at 6 a.m. as it sped down the windy, mountainous roads while the sun rose in the distance.
I have arrived.
No time for sleep now.
No, it wasn’t the age I longed to return to, nor was it the amount of days I had left to live. Those dreaded digits represented something far more serious – the hours I would have to spend on a plane during my flight to Fiji.
Standing 6’4” with an equally long wing-span, the confined seats of airplanes are less than accommodating to say the least. My knees push up against the seat in front of me, and my arms are far too wide for the allotted space.
On the dreaded day, September 20, as I took my window seat I noticed the gentleman seated in front of me already had his seat reclined slightly. But then, about 30 minutes into the flight, I noticed him reach for the handle to indulge in an even greater recline. Knowing this would be the end of what little leg mobility I had remaining, I placed my hands against the back of his chair to prevent him from further invading my limited space. He clearly noticed his intention was being foiled but was unsure of the culprit. He thrust his body back, hoping the momentum would push his seat into the desired position, but my firm grip was depriving him of his desired outcome.
“No, please. I’m 6-foot-five,” I pleaded.
And yes, I did round my height up for effect. But it seemed to work because he then proceeded to decline his seat a little, giving my lengthy legs a few more precious inches to manoeuvre around.
But even more troubling than the space issues on my journey was my devastating case of airplane insomnia. I couldn’t fall asleep on a plane if my life depended on it. Come to think of it, this condition is probably related to my space issue, too.
I couldn’t help but feel envious when the man sitting two seats over fell into a deep slumber ten minutes into the flight while I sat wide awake.
The first five-hour leg of the flight, which took me to Los Angeles, wasn’t so bad. I watched Drag Me to Hell on my friend’s laptop – when that dreaded movie didn’t put me to sleep I knew there was no cure for my severe airplane insomnia.
The three-hour stopover in LA provided me with some much needed time to stretch, and I purchased some outrageously priced airport food (a fruit cup and sandwich totalling $15 American)
Then onto the real challenge: the 12 hour flight to Nadi, Fiji. I knew this would test me both mentally and physically. Again I was fortunate to get a window seat, but my luck ended there. The flight left LA near midnight so most of my fellow passengers – including my friend – immediately dosed off as I sat awake in the darkened cabin. I decided to try to sleep and I even had a few minutes of success but couldn’t stay asleep for long. In the end, I read, watched another movie, and stared out the window to pass the time.
Surprisingly the time went by fairly quickly, and soon I was landing in Nadi at 5:45 a.m. Fiji time.
My travel companion and I found a cab and started the three-hour drive to our final destination: Suva, the capital of Fiji.
Thankfully our driver let us indulge in a few of the beverages we purchased at the duty free shop. So there I was, finally in Fiji, drinking beer in the back of a cab at 6 a.m. as it sped down the windy, mountainous roads while the sun rose in the distance.
I have arrived.
No time for sleep now.
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2 comments:
Glad to hear you arrived safe and sound! For your next flight I highly recommend taking some lorazepam a few minutes before take off - that will definitely knock you out and it has an amnesic effect, so you'll only vaguely remember you were ever on a plane - genuis!
gl d.
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