The 11-Hour Plane Ride, My First International Flight

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I am flying west of Seattle, making good time I suppose. The flight began rather loud and rough, turbulence at its finest. Our Boeing 777 was swaying side to side with the current of the waves swaying below it. One set of turbulence shook and dropped us down a bit. I felt my heart leap out of my chest, and keep beating.

Before that set of turbulence occurred, I stared at the back of my eyelids and awoke to rice crackers with Japanese letters imprinted on the white bag. Lunch was served shortly after, about twenty minutes after. The stewardess, (all female, all Asian stewardesses wearing blue and white pin-stripe skirts, aprons and button-up blouses with handkerchiefs lacing their necks) walked down the aisles placing warm, wet, white hand towels in our hands. I watched as the people sitting ahead of me took the clothes and wiped their hands and face. I followed.

Lunch consisted of four different options. I chose the pork curry with rice, noodles, a fish (swordfish was my guess), pinto beans, miso soup, egg and fruit dipped in syrup for dessert. For as much food as it was, the plate was no bigger than seven by four inches.

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